AN: Never been edited. R&R Please! Five minute character sketch of Yassen.
I first killed at seventeen. It was numb, it was cold, but most of all- it was intoxicating. I learned soon to appreciate it, as cold as that may seem and be. I learned to enjoy the rush of adrenaline that comes with each death.
John was not my partner then, because he was too important for me. Once the higher ups learned of my unmistakable skill, I was given to John to train.
He wanted to save me. There was nothing left to save. I was skilled, untraceable, and immeasurably good. They called me Death, at least, where I could not hear. But walls have ears, they really should have known that- no wonder I had risen and they had not.
So when I chose not to kill Alex Rider, there was notice. How could there not be? I was Death. No one escaped when I was to kill them. (It is not bragging if it is true.) His eyes scared me more than the barrel of any gun. For a child, such like his father, to look so much like me, is a sin.
And now I remember why I first came to Scorpia. I remained from fear, appreciation, and greed, but the using and abusing of innocents is enough to drive anyone to the other side, as it did me. His eyes are haunted and cold, eyes filled with trauma and nightmares.
I am waning. There are whispers that they still assume I cannot hear, filled with talk of how I am becoming old, becoming merciful. They are wrong. I know they are wrong. I will never become soft, innocent, old, merciful. If I were to do so, I would not be myself.
My name is Death. But you can call me Yassen.