4/12/09

Secrets of the Blood

A/N: Welcome to my latest story. I wrote it because I am in fact insane. I'm trying to prevent myself from going crazier. I've been thinking about this one for a while and I only just decided to put it into words. I dedicate this to all of the people I hate because it's their fault I'm so fucked up in the head. There will be a series of OCs that are based on actual people but the names of those people will be changed so I don't get sued. Thank you, have a nice day.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Prologue: Introduction to Insanity

Hatred is only a relative term. It is to dislike, to not love. To have strong feelings of abhorrence. The more we hate the more we are hated, thus we hate even more. And then there is the fact that it is much easier to hate than to do anything else. For example, if something is too difficult, we hate it. If someone does not give us what we want, we hate them. The longer you stay somewhere, the more you hate that place. The longer we are forced to stay somewhere, the more we begin to loathe it.

And just the same as those places, the people in them are just as bad. The longer we are forced to remain around them, the more we loathe them. The only difference is that you can kill a person.

Murder is also a relative term. It does not mean to simply kill. One must have motive. One must have means. There must be something behind it other than the desire to kill. Some kind of passion. Perhaps one who murders has lost too much to care. Maybe they are an outsider. Outcast. Or maybe they're just crazy. Or even that someone was raised to kill. In any case, all of these can lead to or be borne of hatred. Anger is, after all, a type of passion. Anger feeds the hate. Hate feeds the pain. Bringing pain brings fear. And what does fear bring?

Chaos. But more so respect. The more you are feared the more respect you are able to gain. People know not to mess with you, you could hurt them. You could kill. The wise stay away from one who kills. The foolish die at their feet. Or get trampled by a chaotic crowd. Either way they die.

But what of places then? You cannot kill a place. And no matter how much you try to run away, you find that you cannot. You always end up back there somehow. A home is really a prison and we are shackled to our beds. A bedroom is a cell with iron bars. People are just slaves to those around them, but only because they trap themselves inside their own heads. Maybe. Maybe not. But there are some people who are not so foolish.

Personally, I believe that the sanest people in the worlds are those considered insane. They are shunned because they live in reality and not in their own worlds. That's why people think they're crazy. After all, who other than a crazy person would think outside the proverbial box. Most of the world's greatest heroes were called insane at one point or another. But I also believe that villains are much more valuable than heroes. They can bring pain because they know it all too well. Does that make me evil? No one is truly evil just as no one is truly good. Good and evil are simply ideals and you can't have one without the other. There is no room for grey in a world of absolute colors. Black and white that is. Most people have yet to figure that out. But that is the paradox of life: A person who tries to do nothing but good ultimately fails and kills everyone in the end. Because true villains are hard to come by, they find someone they hate, call them evil and either kill them or die trying.

But there is another side. In a world where killers kill other killers, who is the villain? The answer is neither. But neither is there a hero. There is simply death and survival. The joke is on both, there is no real victor either. One can take no pride in killing one's own kind. Murder is too easy for most anyway, especially for those trained to kill. Assassins write their reputations in the blood of their victims. The victims, you ask? They are the real criminals.

Oh but how can I be so cruel?

It's easy, I only give people what they deserve. I might not do exactly what people have done to me, but I would never lower myself to such a level. On the same side, I have never killed anyone who hasn't deserved it. None of them has been innocent, most of them were killers in their own right. I just happened to have a better knife.

Yes, I am an assassin. But one in a world full of them. I have only one person who could be competition and that would be the greatest of all assassins. Artemis Entreri, the master of the silent blade of death himself. But I am not dumb enough to move against him.

It amuses me though that I am just as feared as he is and hardly anyone even knows my real name.

I'll tell you one thing though, I like it that way.

Now then, I believe you must at least have some idea of who I am. Though this is only a page in a diary of one person's twisted mind I shall not introduce myself in the event that someone actually reading this.

Farewell my darlings.