"I hate liars like you. But well, I guess I shouldn't be too upset, I did kill your mother, after all," Darion laughed at the end, eyes curving into crescent shapes as his head to tilted back. "Tell me, brat. How does it feel to be in the presence of the man who slaughtered your beloved mother? I'm certain you're just dying to rip my throat out, aren't you? Well, I'm afraid I would have to disappoint you. You see, no matter how powerful you are, and no matter how powerful you might end up becoming, in the end, you belong to us. That Abyssal Mark ensures you can never go against us, even if that is what your heart and soul desires.
"So my advice? Just put all those burning memories aside and focus on the present. You have a long life ahead of you, and quite an interesting future with the Abyssal Gang. If you manage to prove your worth and loyalty, your life might just end up getting a whole lot better. Though, I can't guarantee anything about that father of yours.
"You would have already noticed it. These guards here? Their families aren't liberated from the need to pay taxes. If anyone fails to meet the quota, they're killed. There's no bargaining around that. We can't have these people acting special just because their offspring are working for the gang now, can we?
"This was all designed by Raphael himself. To make sure no form of opposition sprouts within the hearts of the people. By crushing their spirits, they remain subservient to him now and always," Darion twirled his fingers in the air, a sinister glint dancing within the corners of his eyes.
"Follow me. The boss is waiting," he then said, turning around and heading into the building, seeming nonchalant to whether or not the young vampire would trail behind him. However, one glare from Kales was enough to get his feet rushing forward, moving right behind Darion as they stepped into the decently spacious residence.
Contrasting the various rich scatterings of flora that decorated the exterior to this, Ezeikel couldn't help but be left at awe at how lavish the Abyssal Gang were living. They were truly at the top of the food chain around here, enjoying the best food, accomodation, and perhaps even so much more.
Ezeikel followed Darion down a long hall, the silence between them gnawing at him like teeth severing bone. He did his best to distract himself from whatever was about to happen, reminding himself of why he was doing all of this, once again.
Eventually, they made it to a particular door in the hallway, its exterior adorned with intricate flowing designs all across. A vertical eye with red swirling horns grew out from both ends, the very same symbol that was inscribed on a few other doors they walked passed, and the same mark that displayed on Ezekiel's chest like a symbol of shame.
Darion stepped forward, a few knocks resounding from the door. Both waited in silence for a couple seconds, untill a calm, slithering voice answered from the other end.
"Come in," Raphael said, and right after, Darion pushed the door open, stepping in with Ezekiel trailing right behind him.
Ezekiel quickly moved to the side, taking in the lavish space before him. The tyrant's chambers was at least five times the size of his resident enclosure, a large bed supported by a sturdy framework of polished wood resting in one corner of the room. In the centre, a considerably long dining table resided, its furnishings sharp and pristine, vastly superior to whatever the carpenters of Fluxton had ever constructed before, at least ever since Ezekiel started working there. His eyes then shifted to the windows, where one could look down upon the citizens of Fluxton, scrutinizing or simply monitoring them as one pleased. He internally rolled his eyes. All that was missing was a proper throne to crown Raphael the King Of Fluxton.
There were other ornaments, as well. Like the portable podiums supporting decors forged from sublime mineral metals, and even clay pots teeming with tenebrous flowers, some bearing fruits of enticing flavor.
Soon enough, his eyes returned to the man twirling a glass of bioluminescent blood in his hand, his back resting leisurously on a fluffy chair. Ezekiel hadn't noticed the furniture at first, but now, paying attention to it, Ezekiel's stomach churned.
'Damn. That's as good of a throne than I'd even imagined,' Ezekiel thought, taking note of the fine fabric adorning its surface, along with the designs sewn onto it. The furniture was a beautiful mix of several colours, creating a loud image of dominance and chaos.
"I see you've arrived," Raphael suddenly said, placing the glass cup on the chair beside him. "I've been waiting. I hope you've fully healed from your wounds?" He asked, teeth showing through the eager grin.
Ezekiel didn't reply right away.
His heart race quickened yet again as he stood before two of the greatest powerhouses he ever had the misfortune of offending. He silently cursed his faith, smoothening his posture as he bowed his head low.
"Yes, sir. Just as you instructed. I'm here because you said we have a lot to discuss," Ezekiel then replied, his tone audible and earnest. He wanted to mention what had happened outside earlier, but then stopped. Darion had already diffused the situation. It would be bothersome to bring up the matter once again. Moreover, this might have just been simply how the guards treated new recruits. He couldn't afford to get into more trouble already by simply bringing it up.
Raphael nodded his head in satisfaction, his fingers beating the armrest in a rhythmic fashion. His gaze fell on Darion for a brief moment before returning to Ezekiel.
"Indeed. Now that you are part of the Abyssal Gang, I'm sure the others have already educated you on all you needed to know, so I won't waste your time going over them again," Raphael continued, crossing his legs. "So, in that case, let me educate you on a different matter. You see, as of currently, the gang is having some issues with the neighboring town. I'm certain you're aware of Wilson, especially since a bunch of you lowlives were rushing there during the last Rumbling?
"The gang that rules over that town, The Devils' Flames, they've gone through a lot recently. Word got to me that after the unexpected war with that army of otherworldly creatures, The Devil's Flames have experienced quite the transformation. Members betrayed their subordinates, lives were taken as bargaining chips, and now, everything's upside down. But still, that's not what I'm truly concerned about.
"Patrick, their leader, has been put in a tight spot. It seemed he wasn't aware of just how treacherous his subordinates could be. I still don't have the full picture, though. My Intel may even be wrong. I can't be sure, as of now," Raphael picked his glass cup once more, and took a nice sip before continuing. "Whatever the case may be, they're planning something. Something against my town. I can't just sit back and watch them lay siege to us like those strange creatures.
"Remember, boy, this isn't me asking for your help. This is simply me telling you your place here. You will train, you will grow stronger, and when the time is right, you will fight. Even if you loose your life in the process, it will be all for the sake of the gang. You are my slave, after all," Raphael winked at the end, but Ezekiel remained unfazed, on the surface, at least.
But within? Within, an inferno was brewing. Several questions were spiralling all at once, but he bit his tongue. He could read the room, it wasn't in his place to ask questions. All he needed to do was take in what was being said and nod his head like an obedient little boy.
His lips parted, the words coming out dry from his throat as he responded.
"Alright, sir. I'll do my best not to disappoint you."
Raphael tilted his head as he got his response. The next second, he stood up from his exquisite chair, the air gaining a heavier weight as his steps echoed through the room. His opaque overall ruffled with movements, rings shimmering with deeply coveted fortune. His curly mid-length hair danced with each step, his mustache stretching upward more and more.
The Leader Of The Abyssal Gang stood mere inches away from Ezekiel, his eyes growing wide with interest.
"First, we'll have to see just where you stand on the scales of power," Raphael decided, fangs bared in the darkness.