Ezeikel's journey to the base of the Abyssal Gang was riddled with one jarring thought.
All his life, he had lived under the quiet harmony of his mother and father. For years, he was blissfully ignorant of the dangers that loomed above their poor town, pulling strings like demented puppeteers. He watched as one of said puppeteers reaped his mother's life when he was just a child, and now, he was going to meet the puppet master in his own residence.
His blood boiled, but he forced himself to keep calm. Now wasn't the time to be rash. A level head was far more needed than unbridled fury.
He pushed the dark memories aside, turning past a couple street corners as the residence drew closer and closer.
The question that kept his mind spinning, almost nauseating him, in fact, was whether or not Raphael would inquire about his special powers. After all, such individuals with special genetics were termed mutants. They were rare breeds amongst the low class, and such individuals clanned together to forge gangs to rule the citizens right under the Emperor's jurisdiction.
Raphael must already be aware that Ezeikel wasn't normal. However, what bothered Ezeikel was what he would say when the question arised.
'I can't just open my big mouth and say whatever comes to mind. I already made that mistake when I spoke about father. This time around, I should think of what I say first. At least now, I'm not being caught offguard or anything like that,' Ezeikel thought to himself.
Soon enough, the large residential building appeared before him. His eyes cranned upward, observing the massive gates leading into the compound. Upon moving closer, a series of clicks invaded his ears, and the next second, the gates were pushed open. Squads of guards stood in positions on the other side. Taking notice of them, Ezeikel rolled his eyes as he stepped into the compound.
'What can weaklings like these actually do? They're not that much stronger than me. Given enough time, I'd be strong enough to deal with them without much trouble. The fact that Raphael takes in people to work as guards… I guess he doesn't like the idea of dealing with just about anyone who wishes to challenge him. He leaves the pests for these guys to handle,' amongst the guards were the strongest Fluxton had to offer. These were handpicked by Raphael and his brothers to work for the gang. It was a means to allow them escape the cycle of tax payment, though the alleviation could only be stretched to these specific individual alone.
Their families were still required to pay taxes, and if there were those who couldn't, the weight of condemnation was indiscriminant towards them.
"Who are you? State your business here," one of the guards barked, blood aura shimmering at his fingertips as crimson eyes glared viciously at Ezeikel.
The latter maintained his outward composure, clearing his throat as he replied, sounding as non-provocative as he could.
"My name is Ezekiel Stormwing. I am the newest member of the Abyssal Gang," he explained, raising his clothes to reveal the Abyssal Mark on his chest.
Looking at the mark, the guard slowly dissolved his act of intimidation, straightening himself as he further closed the distance between them. The guard's attire comprised of a thick leather shirt and trousers, similar to what Darion of The Abyssal Gang usually wore. His mid-length straight hair danced slightly as he walked, sharp facial features contrasting the starvation that plagued those at the bottom of the barrel.
'Makes sense that Raphael's guards are well-fed. They work under him, I wouldn't expect him to be harsh to his workers just like he is towards the townsfolk,' Ezekiel thought, his face devoid of noticeable emotions.
Finally, the guard covered the space between them. Only a few inches remained between Ezeikel and the guard, and for a brief moment, his eyes lingered on the string of words sewn to his shirt.
'Kales,' Ezeikel thought, eyes harrowing slightly. 'Try anything with me, and when the time is right, I'll deal with you accordingly.'
Seconds waved past as both stared at each other, neither willing to blink. And then, Kales' hand moved, fingertips coated in blood aura as he swung his arm out to deliver a punch. His movements were fast, faster that what Ezekiel was used to, and before he could register what was happening, he felt a deep, bellowing pain spread through his abdomen. His back arched forward, saliva spewing from his throat as his lips gaped open.
His knees buckled, striking the ground with graceless force. Hands clutched his stomach tightly, teeth grinding against each other as his eyes squinted shut. Suddenly, a hand grabbed him by the hair, firm and vicious, yanking him feet off the ground. Burning eyes met Kales' icy gaze.
"Welcome to the Abyssal Gang, kid," Kales' voice dripped with apathy as he continued. "Word of advice: don't go around acting like people give a shit about your well-being. Act like some pompous brat, and the guys around here might just kill you before the bosses do. Got that?" He delivered another solid punch, the force rattling flesh and bones as Ezekiel spat out blood.
The trail of blood fell on Kales' face.
He grunted, and geared his fist back for another blow. Ezeikel's mind raced as he watched the burly man prepare to strike him once more. He considered gathering his own powers, but quickly unconsidered it. Whatever trouble he was in now, provoking the guards any further wouldn't help his case in anyway.
Dealing with whatever prejudice this man held would simply be the better option, regardless of how painful it might be.
The other guards watched on in anticipation, eyes burning with satisfaction as they awaited more blood to be spilled. Murmurs broke out amongst their ranks as they chuckled and made imitations with their own fists.
Everyone was hooked, until suddenly, a voice, low and ominous, carried through the air like ashes in the wind.
"What seems to be going on here?" Darion asked, his steps calm and delegated with precision. He emerged from the interior of the building, hands in his pockets as narrowed eyes scanned the external terrain. The guard's swiftly averted their gazes, hearts racing as they looked elsewhere. Then, his eyes fell upon the guard who was gripping the youngster by the strands of his hair.
"Let him go," he ordered, and right after, the guard did as instructed. Ezekiel didn't feel the third blow connect. Instead, he felt his legs strike the ground with a painful thud as his eyes sharply turned. Pain did little to numb his senses. The blows were gruesome, but not decisive. His endurance had come a considerable way since the genesis of his path.
Standing just a couple meters away, causally observing his surroundings, was one of the wings of the Abyssal Gang, and the very person who tore his family apart.
'Darion,' Ezeikel tasted iron, his chest burning with animosity as he struggled to avert his eyes.
The nightwalker caught his gaze, each step drawing his closer to the beaten child slowly dragging his body off the floor. Ezekiel's heart thumped louder each second, memories of the last Rumbling replaying in his mind, reminding him of why this man walking toward him was feared by everyone in the community.
Finally, Darion stood before the familiar face, glowing eyes piercing forward, straight into the trembling pupils of the bruised youngster. Ezekiel did his best to masterfully disguise his hatred, feining helplessness in the face of all things abominable.
"D-Darion, I'm sorry if I might have caused a scene," Ezekiel words flowed with the weight of urgent perfection, hands shaking by his sides as he swiftly looked away. "I'm here, just like Raphael ordered."
Darion didn't reply right away.
His gaze kept forward, as if trying to decifer something hidden in those deep red eyes. Fortunately, whatever change Ezekiel was going through due to his powers, they didn't permanently change the nature of his eyes. They still retained that signature crimson glow, unless he willed his powers to overcome that basic symbol of vampirism. So, whatever the tyrant was searching for, he wouldn't be able to find, unless Ezekiel was careless and let something slip.
Over a minute later, Darion finally gave a response, his tone appearing more relaxed as he holded his arms.
"You're just as hot-blooded as I remembered. Don't think you're little act is fooling me. I can see straight through you," Darion said, lips curling into a grin.