"What is life?"
"What's the difference between life and death?"
Brimmed with scars and wounds, a naked child was standing motionlessly on a pavement bathed with crimson, in front of something truly horrifying.
A gruesome display of violence, their faces and bodies massacred to the point that they were unrecognizable.
What one could recognize was the bodies belonged to children, the same age as the scarred boy.
Rainwater plopped on the ground, washing the red away to the drains, constant crackling being caused by the droplets.
The child's eyes was an enigmatic mystery, completely blank and empty like that of a soulless corpse.
But 'was he soulless' was a question no one in the world could answer— except for one person, his mother.
And the answer was a resounding yes. Indeed, the child did not possess a soul anymore. The very thing his mother has always wanted. And has always trained him for.
What mother would possibly want that for their child?
The kind that did not give birth to them of course. For his mother was no mere woman, but one of the most successful assassins on the face of this planet.
Working under the russian crime families, she had earned the title of misfortune for her ever growing victims.
The russians called her Likho. The embodiment of evil fate. The westerners however, just went with something simpler. Bad luck.
And so, this child was raised by lady mishap herself, turning him into the monster he was today.
Glancing at the mangled bodies, his mother felt joyous that she had the chance to adopt a child as gifted as this.
She curved up a little smile, her face a bright display of approval and admiration for the boy's talents.
"Well, I must say I am impressed. It isn't everyday you see a ten year old kill all his siblings with only a... table knife."
Driving her eyes away from the so called 'weapon' in the child's scraped, fleshy fists, she held out her arm, signaling him to grab it.
"Lets go home, child. We will tend your wounds once we reach there."
The child did not say anything. Just lifted his eyes up at her face before dropping the blood stained knife on the watery pavement.
The splash from the drop caused one of the many surrounding men in suits to close in towards the child, picking up the cutlery used for his kills.
He gave a little nod, entering the shade of his mother's umbrella, away from the freezing rain.
He tightly held her soft yet strong, firm hand as that was the only warmth he knew in his cold, miserable, hopeless life.
Ten years later...
The underworld had always been a ruthless place with nothing to offer except for blood and bones.
Sometimes, entire mob families get wiped out by their rivals in just the snap of one's fingers.
Other times, partners in the same business get buried alive once the mafia start seeing them as threats.
But of course, not everyone is targeted by hitmen. Some enjoy life to their core. Some enjoy life like it's all sunshine and rainbows.
Mr. Volkov, however, was not one of them. For he was a successful businessman and a drug kingpin that had some pretty shady ties with the Bratva when it came to his empire.
Hence, making himself a traitor in the eyes of his former associates.
And the Bratva never forgets. No. The Bratva never forgives...
Well dressed in a red three piece suit, a young blonde haired man strolled by the pavement, reaching the entrance of a well established corporate tower.
The tower belonged to none other than Mr. Volkov's notorious company. HealthyCraft Co.
The man, being a representative of TuskCare Ltd, was sent to negotiate the extent of their stock ownership of the company.
The suitcase he had, contained all of the files that was needed for him to share with Mr. Volkov as overseen by the security scanners.
Just like the hundreds of employees that was entering and exiting the tower, there was nothing particularly suspicious of the man. Nor was his pockets any different.
Checking him in, the security returned the suitcase back before letting him go to the reception.
The complex was a huge and spacious place with the walls painted shiny grey, catching the man's eyes.
Fixing his glasses, the man glanced around the captivating interior of the lobby, the paintings on the walls amazing him.
Surprised by how many people there was, the man felt a little anxious before reaching the reception.
And fortunately, the receptionist was quite the charmer for him, easing the tension on his face.
"Good morning, sir. How may I be able to help you?"
"Uh hi um... I had an appointment with the uh... with Mr. Andrey Volkov today."
"Right. Name and company?"
"Oh um Ben Smith. TuskCare Ltd."
Clicking on the mouse, the receptionist opened up a list of appointments for Mr. Volkov.
She then began scrolling down to find the man's name in the list.
"Mmh... Mr. Benjamin Smith... There. Found you."
She said, forming another smile before turning to the girl next to her.
"Ms Harper, can you please escort our guest to the CEO's office?"
Ms Harper, being the easygoing assistant of the receptionist, eagerly agreed, exiting the circular desk and pointing towards the elevator.
"Right this way, sir."
Following Ms Harper to the elevator, the man was taken in the 7th floor of the business complex.
Just like the ground floor, the grey walls had smooth surfaces, enough to make them glisten.
The main difference lied on the floor itself as there was a brown carpet, covering the entire workstation this time.
As they approached the CEO's office, one of Mr. Volkov's bodyguards stepped forward to check Ms Harper.
When it was over, she entered the room, requesting permission for the young man to enter.
Checking him as well, the security guard let him enter the office when Ms Harper informed.
"Here you are, sir. Mr. Benjamin Smith from TuskCare Ltd."
And there he was, sitting on the swivel chair. The man in deep waters, Mr. Andrey Volkov.
"Thank you, Ms. Harper. You may go now."
The smile on Andrey's face was a bright display of contentment, full of jubilation and excitement.
He was finally getting to meet the man he was contacting with for the last couple of days.
Ms Harper on the other hand, just bowed in silence and exited the office to return to the ground floor.
"Please. Have a seat."
"Sure."
Sitting down in front of the CEO, the young man's eyes wandered around the fascinating room, painted like it was made up of wood.
On one side, there was nothing but the tall glass windows, showing off the beautiful scenario from the 7th floor.
But on the other, there was a giant book shelf, consisting mainly of business magazines used by Andrey.
Fascinated by the golden lights that sprayed over them, the young man's ocean blue eyes could not leave the details for a few seconds.
However, realizing that he kept Andrey waiting, he placed his suitcase on top of the desk, opening the locks.
"Mr. Smith, wasn't it?" asked Andrey, his russian accent giving him an advantage of intimidation to anyone he speaks with.
He took a sip from his cup of coffee, staining some droplets on his grey beard.
The man mainly nodded in response to him, a quiet 'yeah' produced by his mouth that wasn't exactly heard.
"How did it feel visiting our complex, son?"
"Oh yeah, it was... it was phenomenal. The interior designs are just really... really great."
Solely focused on searching the files, the man didn't have his mind on the small talk even though he was normally the type to be a fan of conversations.
"Well I am glad to hear that. Nice to finally meet you, son."
"Nice to meet you too, sir."
Surrounding the two men, there were plenty of bodyguards in the office, each of them wearing a black suit and an earpiece.
As he proceeded on bringing out the files related to HealthyCraft Co., Andrey suddenly chuckled out of nowhere.
"You look awfully young to be a representative though."
"Wehell yeah. That's mainly the reason why I was sent here."
"Ah experience, huh?"
"Yeahh. Anyways so-"
"But I feel like you already have a lot of experience. Don't you, Mr. Smith?"
A short pause cut through the conversation as the young man's confused eyes landed on the CEO.
"...I am sorry?"
Clicking his tongue, Andrey repeated.
"I am just saying. I am pretty sure you already have plenty of experience."
"Uhm... Thanks, I guess? I am not sure how to respohond to that, sir."
"Oho I sure hope you don't respond at all. But I feel like you will, one way or another. I mean... that's the job, isn't it?"
"Ohkay. With all due respect, I have no idea what you're talking about, sir."
"You sure?"
The man kept his confused eyes on Andrey, trying to understand what he was talking about.
However, after a few seconds, he realized that there was no way to escape this anymore. No way to change the topic. No way to keep the facade.
And so, from a look of genuine confusion and uncertainty, the man's doubtful smile dropped, his expression suddenly fading away into pure emptiness.
"How long have you known this?"
The man asked, adding a glint of coldness in his voice that was no longer the same as before.
"A few weeks... Maybe months."
Even knowing what was to come, the young man was unmoved, portraying no emotions whatsoever.
Instead he just calmly took off his glasses, polishing the lenses against his suit and allowing Andrey to finish off.
His english dropped, an intimidating serene coldness in his russian speech as he proceeded on exposing the young man.
"You are no negotiator. No representative. Hell, you are not even a business executive. No... No, you... you are the child of Bad luck..."
Behind those blank, weary eyes laid a vast abyss, no sign of fear, rage or sorrow.
Behind those eyes only lied the remorseless intent of showing why exactly they called him...
"The child of chaos."