Hellhound

Chapter 1

There was once a man that waltzed with death. Doused in darkness he would continue to pave his path with crimson rose petals. You cannot see a star die if not dark. That beautifully tragic moment it dives into nothingness, that is what would lure him in. That craving of the demise of his star was what destroyed him. For he was a creature awaiting in the cruel shadows that cut deep in the edges of the world. He was nothing more, nothing less than a black hole that would destroy anything in his path along with himself. One would say he liked it. He liked to destroy himself; that was his sole purpose. Yet, his feelings were like a mirage, they seemed to be there, but in truth they weren't.

A tall slim figure emerged from the shadows. His long black hair prevented anyone from seeing his face. He had his hands in his pockets, yet it was clear that they were balled into fists. If one were to take a closer look at him, they would see that at the collar of his black shirt, there was a darker spot. It was blood. The man, no older than 20 years old, took out his phone and dialed a phone number, then placed it on top of his ear. It rang two times before the person at the other end pickedt it up. When the man heard their faint breath from the speaker, he spoke.

"It is done." He said, and started to walk along the shadows. He didn't want to be seen, not that there was a high chance to. He was clad in black, from his long black coat to his black, newly polished, shoes and clothes. Even the gloves he wore were black.

"Good. Come back, we have a new one." The raspy voice that came from the speaker made the man sigh, a cloud of air freezing into the atmosphere in front of him.

"Got it, I'll be there soon." The man ended the call before the other party had even the slightest chance to answer, and he slid the phone into his pockets.

It was an unusually cold night for spring, but he felt comfort into the coldness. That cold wind was all he had left in that tainted world of his, and he embraced it wholeheartedly. From afar, the clock striking midnight was heard, signaling the start of another new day. The past was about to be let loose, but he had no intention of letting it harm him again. He started to walk faster, as if someone was behind him trying to reach him and imprison him. There was no one, only his illusions. Yet, he ran, he ran away from himself. His heart was pounding. His legs were aching, even though he had not even reached his limit yet. His throat was dry. As he took a sharp turn to the left, he stopped. His breaths were shaky and uneven, his eyes wide. He could hear footsteps ringing inside his head.

"Go away...Go away!"

He shut his eyes and slid down to the filthy wet pavement. He pressed his hands to his ears. There was a cold wind running down his arms, and his eyes widened.

"You can't escape me."

A slight whisper echoed around him, and a thin half-transparent cloud evaporated in front of him. He was once again alone.

Clutching his black vest where his heart would be, he tried to calm down. He placed his right hand on the pavement and with a slight jolt he got up. He tried to swallow the lump on his throat, but to no avail. His heart continued to race. He stumbled to his feet, and realized a tad too late that across him was the building of the Headquarters.

Feeling a slight comfort, he dusted off his coat and straightened his tie. He cleared his throat and glanced around, just to be sure no one had witnessed his mental breakdown. He walked decisively to the entrance, where there were two giant bodyguards in black suits securing it and threw them a glance. If he wanted he could beat them to a pulp, and it wouldn't even require the one tenth of his strength.

"Sir." They both said in unison, and opened the door for him. He nodded towards them, and they bowed. It was a rarity for him to even acknowledge their existence, so nodding was something to be respected and be honored by.

He walked into the dimly lit building. Only the high floors were presentable, the low ones were filled with mold and filth. He would always wonder why they lived in there, after all the scientists were far from poor. Plus, they were their precious, 'successful' gifted, they deserved better than that. It didn't really bother him, as he was in the highest ranks among them, as the leader of the gifted group the scientists had formed, but his subordinates were sure having a hard time. He, himself, was more than satisfied, this place didn't even compare to where he used to live before, ostracized by everyone in existence because of his powers. He had finally found a 'home' for himself, a hideous one, one that made him a murdered, but a 'home' nonetheless.

He took the elevator to the higher floors, which screeched to a halt after he reached his destination. Under other circumstances, he would have used the stairs, he was in need of a good exercise, but he felt like he could collapse anytime.

He took a deep breath and walked down the corridor. At the end of it, a man he recognized as the lead scientist's bodyguard stood in front of the door. Knowing what he had to do, he stopped in front of him and half-bowed.

"Raven, Gifted #1. He called me." He reported, and straightened his back. The man took a step aside, and Raven stepped in. As soon as he did, a scent he knew well entered his nostrils, and he had a sudden urge to vomit.

The room was decorated in black and red, everywhere one looked they would spot those two colors. There was a warmth that contradicted the temperature outside, making Raven want to take off his coat. He didn't though; he didn't have the time, as a voice called him. He looked down, and walked to the source of the sound, curious to see what he wanted now. It had been a while since he had last called Raven to his office, he would only call him when there was something seriously wrong and in need of taking care of. Otherwise, and this was the usual thing, reports would come to Raven via phone calls and messages, never in person.

"Raven, boy, I missed you!"The short man in a white lab coat that was stained with blood got up from his chair and greeted him with a hug.

"Have you grown even taller? You look more like a man than a-" He started to say, but Raven quickly cut him off.

"I believe that should be enough, sir. What is it you wanted me to handle?"

"Cold as ever." The man muttered and sighed.

"In any case, I called you here for this." He said and pointed to the floor where there was a bloody man sprawled. He was breathing heavily and coughing up blood once in a while.

"He is dirtying my carpet." He sat down and placed his elbows on the wooden desk, supporting his face with his hands.

"Yes, sir." Raven said and grabbed the man, forcing him to stand up. Once he did, he screamed, an agonizing scream, as his legs were both broken. Raven huffed and held himself from glaring at the smiling man, and then he let him fall down. He grabbed his collar and dragged him outside.

'What a pain.' He thought. He was aware it was his job to do anything that man ordered him, but this was too much. The scientists were capable enough to clean someone on their one, they had done it many other times, Raven and his group was for other things.

Raven got out to the back alley and threw the man in front of him. He reached for his inner gun straps, and took out his gun. The man's eyes widened, filled with terror, and he whined, begging for mercy.

"Please, please don't do it...No...No, I have a family. I have a little girl; you see she is still 5 years old. She has her birthday in a month, please. Please don't..."

Raven's eyes were devoid of any emotion. He exhaled and pointed the gun to the man's head.

"Please, please...No, n-"

A loud bang echoed around, and just a bit of smoke started to travel along with the wind. Raven kneeled beside the, now, dead man and closed his eyes. He could not bear to look into his eyes.

Those dead eyes, that so resembled his.