1 Lost soul-1

-Earth-

The moon appeared anew in the sky upon a not so clear starry night, it was raining heavily with water flooding the quiet streets. In one corner of the neighborhood, was a two-storey house that seemed eerily silent and even the passers-by, steered clear of this desolate place.

If anyone was close-by, they would've heard sounds of furniture breaking and startling gun shots that shattered the air. On the second floor, with walls riddled with gun-shot holes, a fuming voice could be heard with a man behaving maniacally,

"Where did this bastard come from?!?!?!" asked an old man with clenched teeth, who was surrounded by a few guards. He was in his 60's with gray hair and a neatly trimmed beard, a cigar in left hand and a smoking revolver in his right. He was of Hispanic descent, and could probably be compared to a gang boss.

"I want his name NOW! Or the next bullet goes in your head." he said to his quivering subordinate who was on the floor, in front of him kneeling out of fear and helplessness. The subordinate didn't dare refute, before he got up in a hurry to head out when he heard a silenced gun shot along with the sound of the windows shattering.

He was on the floor the next second with a gaping hole in his neck bleeding out, looking dazed and suffocated as his life slipped away at an excruciatingly slow pace. The guards went silent watching this cruel scene before one of them shouted, "SNIPER! Get down!"

Little did that do to change the status quo, as they all fell one after the other with the same silenced bullets to their necks watching each other die slowly in a torturous manner. All that was left was the old man on the floor amongst the bloody bodies, cigar in his mouth, dread in his eyes trying to get away but failing to, and slipping on the bloody tiled floor. He was assaulted with a colossal stench of iron, and urine perhaps, maybe his own- 'definitely not mine' he thought strenuously before being pulled out of his thoughts when footsteps could be heard coming up.

*thud*

*thud*

*thud*

The door was pushed open and in came a dignified middle-aged man with a head full of shaggy silver hair, scruffy beard, and his eyes divulging an imposing aura filled with bloodlust and rage. He had a silenced meter long sniper rifle on his back, closing the door with his left hand and his right hand holding on to a weapon akin to a butcher's knife.

He had a cold, calm and unfeeling face, completely inconsistent with the brutality in his eyes that screamed vengeance. The dissonance between the two felt unsettling if anything.

The old man seemed to have snapped out of his stupor and started stuttering, "a-as-ASURAAAA-AAAAAAAAAAAA!!" All he saw was a demon with blackish eyes staring into own, probably judging his soul.

The silver haired man walked past the bodies and stood in front of the old man, before the old man could react, he lost his limbs one by one presumed to be done by the knife, as he was gutted along with his head with blood splattering everywhere around him. After he was done butchering, his twitching rage-filled eyes seemed to have calmed down a little, and his mind relieved.

He walked out, but not before dumping gasoline along the walls and bodies, lighting the building on fire. The pouring rain strived to put out the burning building, but little could it do to extinguish the fire fueled by this man's vengeance.

As he walked down the street and out of the neighborhood, knowing that this would be the last day of his life in this world, he felt sad and relieved at the same time. He was dying, he had been diagnosed with an unidentified disease, far deadlier than cancer. Though, it could do nothing to stop his monstrous will from dragging his diseased body along. He had lived the last 20 years the same way, as an indefatigable monster that knew no pain.

[MC POV]

My name is Valentine, as for my last name, don't have one. My name was given to me by the matrons, back in the orphanage I used to live in. I always feel at peace when I remember those days, I was a peculiar 6 year old silver haired boy who used to go around clobbering every kid that provoked me in the slightest. They feared me, but after a while they realized that I wouldn't pummel them if they didn't bother me. Living in fear, they figured it was best if I was left alone to myself. I was even taught anger management exercises by the kind ladies there, but they did little to help my condition.

Without anyone provoking me, I was a calm and collected kid; far more intelligent than the kids around my age. I always knew that I was different, too easy to anger and I felt a void in myself. I felt incomplete to be precise.

So, I remained alone and started reading the books and comics that were left lying around, to pass time. Though peaceful times didn't last long. Kids at that age didn't exactly have the best attention span, so when they provoked me, they were belted one by one until some of them bled. And that was it, even though the matrons pitied me, they couldn't stop me from getting kicked out of the orphanage as they themselves, were pretty destitute. I was around 12 that year.

I lived off the streets for a year, scavenging food from the stalls and pickpocketing every other fat goose that I came across. Even on the occasions I was caught, I always got away after a bloody brawl. I came to realize that I was far stronger than most adults even as kid, so I used that to my advantage to survive pretty easily.

When I was 13, I came across a comic book store run by an old man who was looking for an employee to help out in the store. I went for it and surprisingly old man took me in, without any questions. All he wanted me to do was keep the place tidy and help him while he sorts the books in the shelves. In return, he offered me a place to stay and free food. I was skeptical at first, but later understood that this old man was actually a rare kind soul from the customers. They even jovially called him 'Stan the man'.

Years went by, as I lived among books and comics. Marvel, DC, and everything else that was available in the store were devoured by me.

Around 3 years later, old man Stan was getting old and was about to shut the store and retire, so he figured he'd help me one last time by enrolling me in the United States army. He had known about my condition, and he figured that army discipline would fix it, I guessed. Days went by and I got into the army, after wholeheartedly thanking the old man who took care of me when I was at my lowest. Teenage years and hormones did a number on my control over my emotions and I'm sure I would've buried someone alive if I was out there, in society interacting with other horrendous beings. So, the years I'd cooped up reading, were really god's given grace.

The old man must've thought that the army would help me. Well, he was right in a way. I felt right in my element in the army, like a fish in the ocean. I actively sought battles and picked up the skills required at an insane -never before seen- pace in the wars overseas. My battle IQ was over 9000, and I felt like I was playing with kids when I put each hostile soldier down. I found ways to control my rage during the war, it was a tough subtle balance I had formed after loads of practice between my logical side and my primal instincts that often clouded my mind.

I was quickly promoted for my contributions to war, and was even assigned a 5-man squad to look after and guide. They weren't anything special, but they were good at what they did and followed orders to a tee. I taught them a few easy to learn skills that improved their survival and they got it down in a few weeks.

The following days, I took the squad and went from warzone to warzone in the 3rd world countries. Wars never stopped happening in the world, even if society had progressed to modern times. The squad became somewhat famous among the higher echelons for its skills and completion rate. There were interesting times in the army as well; There was this one time when a hostile soldier's grenade destroyed my supplies and the subtle balance that held my mind together collapsed.

'The squad swore they would keep their mouths shut, about what they saw that day till the day they died after they saw their captain return from behind enemy lines with blood all over his arms and he walked over with the hostile soldier's head and a smile on his face. The chills they had watching this kept them up for months, even as the battle-hardened veterans they were. Their captain had stalked the culprit behind enemy lines for 2 whole days, before removing the man's head with his knife. The higher-ups called him the butcher, but we knew him better than that. This man was a monstrosity of sheer will, and once you were in his sights, you would be hunted no matter where you ran. He had beast like senses with madness in his eyes, that would hone in on anyone that deserved his vengeance. The soldiers would pray to avoid the butcher on the battlefield, because they knew that a quick death was the next best option they could hope for if they provoked or annoyed him.'

10 years went by in the army with his squad, and they went on to become a special ops team and I took this chance to retire at around the age of 30. I was diagnosed with an unidentified incurable disease around this time as well. As a distinguished retired soldier, with enormous merits earned on the battlefield, I travelled across the world for a cure, for my body and mind. After not finding anything convincing even after consulting with world renowned specialists, I settled for a group of monks that were known for their meditation techniques, and lived in the mountains of Nepal, Asia.

I found them and they were very open with outsiders, so I didn't bother getting too friendly. But I had to say, these people knew their stuff, the monk lifestyle helped slow down the collapse of my body and stall the madness in my mind. I figured I could last another 10 years in the world of the living, with this humbling lifestyle. And I did just that, people came and left, seasons came and left, even monks left after a while to fresher pastures, but I remained in those mountains for a decade. Trained a few weapon arts in the mountains and shadowboxed, after I found that it helped my mind a little.

With my life coming to an end, I figured I'd go home and prepare for my departure from the land of the living. I tried looking for old man Stan during my on-duty days, but the man just seemed to have disappeared. I seemed to remember having felt so much sadness, for the first time in my life. The only ones left to say goodbye to, were probably my squad mates from the army days. They weren't really that important, for I didn't really care for anyone and I was a lone-man, who was happy being left that way.

When I went home, a small place I had purchased in the countryside during my duty days, I was faced with a bundle of letters. Some were probably a decade old, and clearly whoever was responsible didn't care enough to return them. As I read through the letters, I found that most of them were miscellaneous garbage. When I read the letter dated about 2 or 3 years ago, I found my face twitching and losing control of my emotions.

It stated that my squad mates and all their family members were brutally murdered. Some were even covered up and passed off as accidents. In my long on-the-field career, I've made a lot of people owe me over those years, but couldn't be bothered to call it in. As for the enemies I made? They were hunted down with no traces remaining, though the clever ones knew it was probably my doing. But they knew when to keep their mouths shut, so I left them to their own devices. PSYCH, as if, I left no one, who had a chance of bothering me alive.

The letter was obviously from someone who owed me a favor, and he was probably paying it back with this message. I heavily gulped, inhaled the countryside air and exhaled, calming my mind that was already on a tether.

As I thought it over, I reminded myself that I was dying anyway. Might as well go all out, and let my primal instincts take over one last time for VENGEANCE. I traced down the people responsible for the information leak, leading to the families of his squad mates dying. Found the traitors in government that were responsible and took them out, they didn't see me coming and even if they did, they probably thought I was already dead. After all, the disease that I had was public news, wasn't exactly hidden by me. Though, that was on purpose, they would've sent kill squads after me after my career ended otherwise. I still faced a few kill squads and assassins during my years on the mountain though.

And killing the traitors, I went after the businesses of everyone responsible and even those that had a remote connection to the murders. And picking them off one by in my manic state, I fully enjoyed my final days on earth.

And now, after sniping the final bugs, and butchering the head responsible, burning the building with the bodies, I can feel my mind relaxing after going on a rampage the last few days. I drive over to a water bridge, with water below that connects to the ocean.

I get down of the vehicle, step towards the ledge of the bridge after climbing over the safety bars, which were joke if you ask me, barely 2 feet tall. As I stand on the ledge, looking down on the water, I feel a calling, something attracting me, ever since I was born and I know that the answers wouldn't be found here on earth. Call me fool, but I believe in the afterlife or maybe even reincarnation. That would be the only explanation for how hollow I feel on the inside. Others would've asked if I have a mental problem? Ain't got time for that shit, and I'm not taking that for an answer.

I lean forward and jump with a placid look on my face, my entire life flashed by my eyes and I remembered the calling from within my soul I always felt, whenever I was unstable, the calling for vengeance.

I instinctively felt that there were higher beings out there who were to blame for the state of my soul, my broken self and that they were possibly watching, having their fun watching me flounder through life. I raged in my mind, using all the remaining embers of life left in my body I struggled to open my mouth and went on to scream with madness in my eyes as I fell,

"I declare vengeance against you all!" as I inwardly knew that someone out there was responsible for leaving me in this fragmented state.

My fall came to end as I proceeded to sink into the ocean with my eyes closed, letting my body give in, collapsing once and for all. But as time went by, my everlasting will refused to give up and completely perish eventually slipping into a temporary slumber.

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