Preface: Hero
AN: So this is the first time in a long time I've written anything. I hope you enjoy this twisted AU and if you don't…well I'm not sure what to tell you. Hopefully the next chapters will be longer and well just better. I appreciate any reviews/favs/fallows, sorry if I don't respond to your review…I'm awkward like that.
It was always the same.
Their age, race, station, and crimes might be different but his task was always the same.
Kill and eat.
It was the only two things he ever had to do. It sounded so simple and in all honesty it was...but that's what made it so sickening. Even those he worked with couldn't understand why it was so easy for him to walk into someone's home, torture them to death, then devour their soul. They were, no matter the crime, still human. How could he commit those gruesome acts on fellow humans and not so much as blink (let alone wince and empty his stomach as so many of his colleagues did)? He'd never blamed them for asking that question...well he had until he realized that they hadn't had to live the first seventeen years of his existence. They had heard the reports of what his targets had done but it wasn't real to them, just words on paper. The victims were faceless, just ages and genders. His acts, however, were too real. It was too much for most to handle so they averted their gaze and shuffled past him. Judging him without knowing the twisted scars he bore. Judging him for doing exactly what he'd been asked to do.
It still baffled him that one of the most gentle people in the world had the courage to befriend him. Her partner had quickly followed after her and now the duo were the only two people who he considered friends. She still cringed when she saw him come back wearing the blood of his targets like a second skin but she'd still smile softly and pull any food out of the fridge her gluttonous partner had yet to get to before running him a bath. She treated him like a younger sibling and he was grateful, though he'd probably never say it aloud. After food and a bath he'd crash on their couch, more comfortable in their apartment then he was in his house...probably because of the impromptu experimentation and modification he often went through when he finally decided to sleep.
He shivered a bit as he stepped out of his standard inconspicuous, but creepy as shit if you saw it randomly parked on your street, black car and into the cold night air. It wasn't cold enough to snow but with the way he shook it might as well have been. He didn't live in the middle of the desert because he enjoyed the scenery. He always hated the way the cold numbed his fingers and made his breath visible. The cold also reminded him of things that were best left forgotten, especially on a mission. He'd bring them up later when they were crying and pleading for their lives. Promising him anything just so they could keep on breathing. If he remembered then his task would be just as easy as it sounded.
He stood there for a minute as he sorted through the noise of the bustling red light district. It was hard for him to be in such a place for long. The souls of the forgotten and the wicked sang out. It's melody dark and twisted. It prodded at the beast that lived just below his tattered veil of civility, trying to get it to act. It was hard not to give into the discordant beat, but he had several years of practice.
Slowly he approached the club. It's pulsing neon lights flickering over his hair and making it appear as though it had color. One black gloved hand gripped the edges of his jacket as he gave one final shutter before knocking on the heavy black door. It opened slowly to reveal a man who was a few inches shorter and far wider than he was. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice harsh and intimidating (or would be to anyone who didn't know what such a voice would sound like when it began pleading for its life).
"I'm here to see Mr. Smith." His voice was far more intimidating then the guard's. It was deep, dark, hypnotic and promised pain (lots of it) if he didn't get his way. He held back a smile as the guard shiver. He knew the guard was used to all manner of twisted fuckers coming to the club's back entrance to do business with his boss but he was probably the scariest by far. With shock white hair and eyes the same color as blood he looked as though he'd just stepped off the screen of a horror movie.
Not wanting to argue with him the guard stepped back and allowed him to step into the relative warmth of the club. The guard quickly locked the door then pressed on the ear piece hidden in his left ear. "Dex, can you please tell Mr. Smith that he has a guest?" The guard waited a moment for a reply then turned to him and asked, while trying to keep the shaking out of his voice, "What's your name Sir?"
"SoulEater" He responded simply. The man shuttered again and repeated his name back to Dex before ushering him to a private bar. The guard told him someone would come get him in a moment before fleeing as fast as he could while trying to pretend he wasn't running away. Yawning at the man's reaction SoulEater turned towards the bar. Standing on the other side was a topless girl, because she couldn't be more than fifteen, obsessively polishing a cup in her hand. He knew it was because she didn't want to get yelled at or worse, because she was staring at him. Trying not to startle her he crossed his arms on the counter and lowered his head. His gaze drifted over to the alcohol above her head. He let her get used to his presence before finally speaking. "Hey"
Even though he'd voice had been soft she jumped as though he'd yelled at her. "I -I'm sorry, can I g-get something for you?" Her stammering voice ended in a little squeak. She clutched the piece of cloth in her hand to her small chest and sat the shot glass on the table. She was openly shaking and trying hard to avoid his gaze. If she could shrink down to nothing she probably would have. He didn't blame her, after all he scared the shit out of almost everyone.
Sighing softly he shook his head. "Not really," He doubted she actually knew how to mix drinks or even what half the stuff behind the bar was...and he needed a clear head to finish his mission. The room fell into silence until SoulEater straightened and stretched his arms over his head causing his back to crack. Once more the girl jumped, as did the guard much to his amusement. "you're jumpy" He pointed out earning a quick glance from her.
"Sorry." she mumbled before picking up the shot glass and putting it away. He watched as she then proceeded to wipe down the bar.
He shrugged and dropped back onto the bar. "It's cool, I make everyone jumpy. Including the big burly guy over there." He signaled the guard with a jerk of his head and the girl's lips twitched before a small smile broke out across her face. He smiled as well though it was hidden behind his arms. Both their smiles vanished as soon as they heard the click of the inner door's lock being undone. The man that came out had started to head for the bar only to be pinned in place by a set of cold red eyes. He swallowed and opened his mouth. After a few moments of it hanging open he closed it then tried again. After a few minutes SoulEater became bored with his fish interpretation and stood. One of his black gloved hands reached into his ridding jacket's pocket and pulled out a couple bills (all hundreds). He placed them in front of the girl before walking towards the man, who proceeded to jump back and quickly lead him through the door.
When in the presence of a particularly nasty soul it was hard not to drool like a mongrel staring at a juicy steak. Despite the amount of missions he'd been on he still had as much control over that as he did his hair...which was very little. He'd tried just about everything but had come to the conclusion that nothing short of more genetic modification was going to fix it. So, like his hair, he just let the drool do whatever it wanted. He could live with the weird looks.
"So you're the infamous SoulEater." His target said softly from behind as heavy mahogany desk. He was probably in his mid to late thirties with slicked back jet black hair and cold blue eyes. He was dressed in a charcoal colored suit with a blue silk tie. He completed the civil look with a soft smile that made SoulEater's skin crawl. "I can see why my doorman was so terrified of you, you have quite the frightening appearance. You must have a hard time finding company." Mr. Smith practically purred the final words as he leaned forward. When SoulEater didn't respond he leaned back and frowned. He waved a hand and the man who led him in shuffled nervously past him before leaning towards his boss. After a short hushed conversation the man left the room. Once the man left SoulEater pretended to allow himself to relax. "Now that the nuisance is gone let's get down to business."
"Let's." He growled, flashing massive shark like teeth in a twisted smile.
Outside of the small room nothing could be heard. Not the screams or the begging or the promises or the threats. Not the praying to God as though an all knowing being existed...and if it did why would it help the slim that dwelled on the belly of the Earth not his victims? SoulEater told him as much the man's response was to say he was helping them. SoulEater's response was to bend his arm in such a way that the muscles tore. Even that Earth shattering scream was not heard out of the confines of the small office. Cuts that would never turn into painful scars, torn muscles that wouldn't heal wrong and ache when turned the wrong way, broken bones that would never set wrong and feel stiff when the weather turned cold. Mr. Smith had them all. Blood was pouring from his broken body as he lay there not quite dead but wishing he was. Leaning against the door SoulEater watched as his target breathe his last gurgling ragged shallow breaths with the same expression that the average person had when told that the sky was blue.
When the room fell silent he pushed off the door and walked over to the man's dead body. His glassy eyes stared up at him as he reached down and grabbed the man's soul. The blackened shriveled thing wailed loudly the moment his hand touched it. It's dark light pulsed in terror as SoulEater opened his mouth and tilted back his head. The soul gave a final scream before it was swallowed whole, it's black light gone forever.
The door swung open and he exited. The man who'd led him inside the room looked at him but before he could react SoulEater muttered "sleep and forget you ever saw me." The man wasted no time in crumbling to the ground. The girl at the bar went ignored. The guard slumped against the door as SoulEater reiterated his order. With his task complete he exited the club and out into the cold night air.
He'd been told man times that his actions bettered the world. Every devoured soul was one more that could no longer hurt others. They made him out to be a hero...all while cringing and keeping their distance.
He knew the truth though. He was no hero but a monster.
A monster who was very good at killing and eating.