So, this is a Destiny fanfiction. Yeah, I didn't expect to be writing one either, but here we are. I've had a few ideas rolling around in my head (characters, story/stories, etc.), and decided to make one of my own. Frankly, it's quite difficult to make a story centered around a character that already exists in the game, as you make your character, and most characters aren't really fleshed out. However, I'm exploring some ideas that I've never seen before, and am also gonna be playing with the rules a little bit. This will be branching a bit from just the game, as I'll be trying to delve into the lore a bit more. Also, we don't know when Rasputin was built or by who, so I'll be toying with the Warmind a lot. This will go into the first three DLCs (Dark Below, House of Wolves, and Taken King) and maybe the other DLCs when they come out. I don't know when they come out, however, so that'll remain a mystery for now. I hope you enjoy the story!
Also, any cities I name are not where I live. I just found cities via Google.
Dates also have no personal connection to me.
"English"
"Russian"
Thoughts
Monte Sereno, California, October 19th, 2062
A man and woman lay in their bed, both sound asleep. The night was peaceful, the calm stretching across the land. This night, however, long before even the Traveler came to this galaxy, the darkness had plans. One member of the Hive came to this planet with a specific goal in mind. She held with her a piece of a god's soul, searching for the best candidate.
Omnigul, the Will of Crota. She had wandered (floated?) over to this upper-class city near a very large body of water, before finally entering the house in which the man and woman lived. Omnigul realized that the woman was pregnant, and felt the barest hint of power within this fetus, sending tingles down her spine. The witch had found her candidate. Implanting the baby with the shard of Crota's soul, she quietly left the house, leaving no trace that she was ever there. Her part in her husband's plans were completed, for now. The child would become the perfect vessel to bring Crota into this dimension, and the Hive would not be able to be stopped.
That was the original plan, at least.
Monte Sereno Hospital, July 7th, 2063
"What's happening?!" A doctor yelled at his colleagues.
"We're losing her!" Another replied. All of them were running around the room, trying to make heads or tails of the situation. "We can't figure out why!"
"Then find out and fix it, goddamn it!" The first doctor replied. "Hold on, Mrs. Vangelis. Stay with us. Your husband and new baby are counting on you. If you die now, your child might become a stillborn. Stay with us."
A while passed, with the doctors helping her survive pushing out the child, the doctors sighing in relief. When they cut the umbilical cord, however, she flatlined.
"Damn it!" The other doctors ran to get the defibrillators. "No, don't." He shook his head. "She's not coming back. We have to break the news to her husband and bring him his child."
Outside the room, the now deceased Mrs. Vangelis' husband, Seraphiel Vangelis stood outside the room, pacing back and forth, worrying if the birthing had gone all right. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw two doctors walk up to him.
"Mr. Vangelis?" The female doctor asked him cautiously. He nodded. "The birth is completed. There were, however, some... complications." His eyes widened in fear.
Oh God, no.
The doctor nodded gravely, leading the former husband into the room, where he saw his wife on the table, eyes closed and perfectly still. He ran over to her side, eyes clouded in anguish.
"No! Dammit, Laura, wake up! Please! You have to stay with me, just talk to me! Tell me you're okay! Laura!" The other doctors looked on in sympathy, before the main doctor walked up to the widower, telling him to look up. Seraphiel gazed at him, tears pouring down his cheeks.
"Stand up. You have to be strong. Your son still needs you, after all," the man stated, handing the new father his crying son. the man dried his tears, holding his baby close, and after a while, the child stopped crying and opened his eyes. the right eye was a brilliant sea blue. Just like his mother, Seraphiel thought. The boy's left eye, however, startled everyone. It was a glowing green, sclera and all, with no pupil. It was as if someone had replaced the babe's left eye with a green light. This green, though no one knew yet, was the shade of green identified with the hive.
Seraphiel knew he couldn't blame his son for his mother's death. That would be both terrible and illogical, considering that he was only just born and couldn't actually do anything on purpose.
"I've... never seen anything like this. I haven't even heard of anything like it," The head doctor whispered in surprise. "Perhaps I'll have regular checkups with the boy to make sure nothing's wrong with it. Before any of that, though, what is his name going to be?"
Seraphiel never looked up, still entrance by the green light that had replaced his son's left eye. "...Azazel," he spoke quietly, almost nervously, before raising his voice. "His name is Azazel Vangelis."
Unbeknownst to all in the room, the newly named Azazel's soul thrummed with power with not only his own life, but with Crota's shard, and the life force it had just drained from his mother.
Yekaterinburg, Russia, April 6th, 2067
It had been nearly four years since Azazel was born, and they had just moved to Russia a few weeks ago due to his father's job. Before, he could work from home, but apparently now that whatever he and his colleagues at the WFA science department had forced him to move to Russia. Before, Azazel hadn't really cared what his father did as a job, only knowing that his position was very prestigious and that he was paid a lot of money for his work, which was supported by the fact that when they moved, they went from a large estate in California to a large estate in Russia without selling the old house or getting a loan. However, since they moved to Russia, Azazel was curious about exactly what his father actually did. The answer he got wasn't exactly what he expected.
"Well, to explain what I do, I need to give you a little history lesson. Back in the year 2020, a small terrorist organization called ISIS, through sleeper agents, took over the much larger state of Iran, gaining access to many nuclear facilities and heavy artillery. Because of this,ISIS got arrogant, and declared war on... well, pretty much everyone. North Korea struck first, sending out a nuke to strike ISIS' own nuclear facilities, in hopes of destroying ISIS as a whole in one blow. ISIS intercepted the missile through some anti-aircraft guns near the border. That border area was left uninhabitable due to the nuclear fallout. The South Koreans all fled from their country, generally migrating to China or America, as they believed Isis would strike the whole island of Korea when they struck back, and they were right.
"The entire island of Korea was wiped off the map. It's just ocean now. That sent a message to the other nations, so as to not have the same thing happen to them, the vast majority of the world (the Middle East being the only major exception) formed the World Federation Alliance, or WFA. America, China and Russia all sent out platoons of troops to Iran, crushing ISIS in a single blow, before destroying the nuclear facilities. That alliance still holds up today, though for how long remains to be seen. Later on, in the late 2030s, what was possibly alien activity was spotted at the outer edges of the milky way. So, rather than to try and reach out to them, we decided to build an AI system in a beyond military-grade fortress in all countries, built to protect humanity above all else. These AI, called the Warminds, are what I work on. or, more specifically, the one here in Russia." Seraphiel noticed his son looking at him in confusion. "You didn't understand much of that, did you?" Azazel shook his head, shoulder-length snow white hair swinging from side to side.
That was another trait which made Azazel unique. His hair was pure white, despite being only three, almost four. Toddlers didn't have white hair. They just didn't. But, heck, one of his eyes was frickin' glowing, what does hair color matter at that point. However, Azazel's father made sure that he always kept the left eye closed in public, as people tended to fear that kind of thing. Azazel was surprisingly understanding about the situation, as he wanted to make friends, not make people fear him. He was lightly made fun of in preschool about his white hair for the first few days, and his weird quirk of having his left eye closed all the time, but they all generally got along. However, there wasn't actually anyone he could call a friend in his class, but he didn't seem to hate it too much.
Another odd thing about living in Russia was that Azazel was learning both English and Russian. Now, this wouldn't normally be a problem, as your child being bilingual is a huge plus, but since Azazel wasn't even four yet, he couldn't really tell the difference between what language he was speaking in. This made for some pretty funny moments when talking to various people.
"Right, you're only three years old. I shouldn't expect you to understand all of that. In simpler terms, I'm building a living computer made to protect humans from aliens." Azazel's eyes shone. Well, the right one did. the left one was always shining.
"That's awesome! Could I be its first friend?" That question got Seraphiel thinking. After all, if the AI saw no merit in humans, that could be quite disastrous. However, having a child be its first face-to-face (face-to-screen?) contact, perhaps the AI would truly see the merit in humanity, and be allowed more freedom.
"I'll have to check with the other researchers about it, but I think you'll be able to." Azazel grinned, making his father smile in turn.
"Sweet! I'm gonna have a robot friend!" Azazel switched to Russian again.
"Azazel, you have to be aware of what language you're speaking in," Seraphiel chided his son, who blushed sheepishly.
"Sorry, Dad. " Seraphiel grinned at Azazel.
"Alright, kid, it's getting late, and I have to get up early tomorrow. Let's get you to bed," the man yawned as he scooped up his son and took him to his room. Tucking in Azazel, Seraphiel kissed his forehead, turned out the lights and closed the door. Azazel's eyes closed soon after, the only light in the room dying out.
Yekaterinburg, August 29th, 2067
Azazel was ecstatic to hear that they would let him communicate with Rasputin. His father and father's colleagues had recently finished programming the AI, but had yet to boot it up. He was taken to an underground facility which had been named the Seraphim Vault after his father, who was one of the biggest minds behind the first Warmind. Azazel had been selected as the test subject to communicate with Rasputin, and had been given his own lab coat, ID pass (top level clearance, just as high as his father), and handprint logged in the system. He was led into a large steel room with a screen covering one third of the circular wall, as well as a few scanners that popped out of and back into the walls at random intervals.
"Alright, Azazel, are you ready for this?" one of the doctors asked from outside, viewing through a camera on the other side. Azazel smiled, green eye shining brightly.
"Of course! Power him on!"
Silence pervaded for a few seconds, before the black screen started displaying various code and windows as a first time setup, before all went black again. Only a few moments later, the upper half of a body was displayed on the screen. The AI took the form of a teenage male with short, tousled brown hair and dark blue eyes and fairly tan skin, wearing a plain white tee, which was in direct contrast to Azazel's looks, with his long, messy, snow white hair, ocean blue left eye and glowing green right eye, pale skin, and a somewhat feminine face.*
"...Hello?" The machine hesitantly asked. Azazel grinned in response.
"Hi! I'm Azazel, your first friend!" Rasputin looked confused.
"I'm... Rasputin. What's a... friend?" Azazel's jaw almost dropped. He didn't know what a friend is!
"Hey, scientist guys! Doesn't he have internet access?" Azazel asked, seemingly to the wall. Out of the speakers came another voice.
"No, not until we have further data on it. We don't know if it's volatile or not." Azazel got angry at they way they referred to his first real friend.
"Hey! Rasputin's a he, not an it! Don't insult him!" The Warmind was confused by this.
"But I am an it. I am a machine, a Warmind, built to protect humanity," Rasputin stated. Azazel's eyes narrowed. Apparently this wasn't the correct thing to say.
"Just because you're a machine doesn't mean you can't be human too! You have feelings! That's why you can be my friend!" Rasputin was still confused on the friend part.
"I still don't know what a friend is," The AI stated as Azazel calmed down a bit.
"A friend is someone you can have fun with, and enjoy their company. You can spend time together talking, playing games, and being happy together. Friends are the people you want to protect from people who are being mean to them or want to hurt them. A friend is one of the best things you could ever have," Azazel finished.
In another room, the other scientists were wowed the child's speech.
"Dr. Vangelis, your son is very wise for his age,"one of the others spoke to the head researcher. Seraphiel just smiled.
"I know. He has taught even me a few things."
Back in the circular room, Rasputin's visage smiled. Perhaps a friend would be nice.
"Yes, I think I would like to be your friend."
That day, Rasputin learned of friendship.
That day, Rasputin knew happiness.
Seraphim Vault, February 15, 2070
Since Azazel was a full-time researcher, Seraphiel realized that he could easily be used to steal valuable information and destroy all progress made within the Vault, and therefore had Rasputin pull up some sword, knife, hand to hand and personal firearm training as a precaution. Of course, Seraphiel didn't realize how swimmingly his son would take to the arts of combat. At six years old, he studied many of the most effective styles in history, eventually taking large chunks of some of the most efficient styles and fusing them together with his own personal flavor, and was improving at a rate that was inhuman. At the age of six, while nowhere close to a master, was proficient with sword, knife, gun, hand to hand, and knife-gun styles of combat with only four months of training, total. Not only that, but with being left handed, he could attack from angles most weren't used to defending at. Of course, Rasputin showing him every flaw at every possible instant with every style Azazel used may have contributed to his improvement. However, his speed, strength and stamina were near an adult's, despite the fact that he was only six. With this, though, another power was at play.
Within Azazel, his soul, which had melded with and adapted to Crota's shard thrummed with power.
Azazel was dominating the next martial arts tournament.
"And in first place, Azazel Vangelis!" The announcer of the junior national martial arts tournament spoke in Russian. "And with this win, he moves on to the international tournament!"
Azazel grinned at the crowd, cameras flashing at him. While he would have liked to stay for interviews and such, he had to go back home. After all, he had school tomorrow, though he didn't particularly enjoy it.
Vangelis household, Yekaterinburg, July 18th, 2070
"Hey, Dad, why are our names so weird?" Seraphiel looked at his son like he had grown three heads.
"Our names aren't weird, they're cool. It's generally tradition in the Vangelis family to name our children after religious figures, dating back to when our ancestor, Vangelis the composer, named his son. That's probably why you have a talent for music. It's in the blood," Azazel's father replied.
"Does that mean you can sing too?" The elder Vangelis smirked.
"Of course. It's part of why your mother liked... me..." Seraphiel trailed off, the mood becoming somber and regretful.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to bring up mom..." Azazel apologized, his head hung low, not meeting his father's eyes. Seraphiel put a hand on his son's shoulder, causing Azazel to look up.
"It's not your fault. What happened happened, and it's not your fault." Azazel wiped a tear from his eye.
"Dad?" Seraphiel raised his eyebrow. "What was Mom like?" At this, Seraphiel leaned back, eyes pointing skyward.
"Hmm... Where do I start...? Ah! She was adventurous. She always wanted to see something new, and could never do one thing for too long. It took a while for me to convince her to settle down in one house, and even then, she always wanted to travel. I ended up being dragged around the world quite a few times because of her. She also had an unhealthy love of lemonade, and other lemon flavored sweets. She had long, wavy brown hair, tanned skin and blue eyes. You actually got her eyes," Seraphiel blinked. "Well, at least your right eye. You think if you were right handed, you'd have gotten her left eye?"
Azazel shrugged. "Maybe." Seraphiel chuckled.
"Alright, it's late, we need to hit the hay. Come on, I'll tuck you in." Azazel sighed.
"Alright, Dad."
Yekaterinburg, December 3rd, 2077
Azazel, now 14, had been a freshman for a while. Unfortunately, while he wasn't exactly outright hated or bullied, tended to be shunned and avoided, with multiple rumors circulating him. These rumors were mostly how he was some criminal, most of which spawned from his snow white hair, believed by others to be dyed. The fact that it was naturally spiky/messy didn't really help with that.** A few students thought that he was a genuinely good guy, but wouldn't converse with him for fear of being shunned by the rest of the school, so he ended up being a loner. He was much quieter at school, only really opening up when talking to his dad or Rasputin.
He still technically had a job as a scientist working with his dad, but all the pay went to his dad, since he wasn't legal working age yet. Rasputin was great, but he couldn't communicate with the AI most of the time. His dad was family, and couldn't really be counted as a friend. He really didn't have people to talk to on a regular basis.
He walked the streets late at night, coming home from the grocery store. Quickly slipping into a maze of back alleys as a shortcut. He quickly noticed something happening once he turned the corner. One of his classmates was up against the wall with some dude in a leather jacket, spiky orange hair, and green-tinted glasses talking to her, his hand on the wall next to her. The fear in her eyes made it fairly obvious what was happening.
"Listen, girlie. I don't wanna hurt you, okay? I just need a bit of money. So if you'd kindly lend me some, I'd be grateful." The girl- he couldn't remember her name- shook her head.
"No. This is a trick. You're just going to rape me while my guard's down, aren't you? I won't!" The girl whispered with all the strength she had. Her eyes were closed, tears welling up at the corners.
"Now, now. Don't just go accusing people of their intentions without any knowledge of them. I told you, I just need some money. Though, if you're really gonna be like this, I know a few rich pervs who would buy a lady like you for some good money..." That was enough. Azazel stepped forward.
"Hey, pal. Why don't you get outta here? You're in my way, and I'd like to get home," Azazel spoke calmly in Russian. The girl gasped in recognition while the other guy just looked confused.
"Hey, is this your boyfriend or something? Maybe he has some money," the thug asked her. Azazel shook his head.
"No, just a classmate. Now, if you could go away, I'd appreciate it." The other man merely laughed.
"Oh, so we got ourselves a tough guy here! Alright, bud, I'll tell you what. Lend me some money, and I'll let you both go. Try to resist, and, well..." He pulled out a small knife, "It's not gonna be pretty." Azazel nodded slowly, before swiftly knocking the knife into the air, knocking him against the wall with a turning back kick to the chest, catching the knife, and throwing it into the solid brick wall a mere two inches from his head. The man was speechless, a mixture of fear and anger prevalent on his face.
"What...? How did you...?" He moved forward, fist swinging at Azazel in a solid punch, but was caught with seemingly little effort. The attacker was surprised at the fact that his punch was caught, seeing that he used proper boxing form, but when he looked into Azazel's eyes, both were open, the left glowing an ethereal green, with cold anger focused on him.
"What... are you a demon or someth-" he didn't get to finish as Azazel fluidly shattered his arm at the elbow, kneed him into the wall (again), and finished him off with a high kick to the temple, knocking him unconscious, bleeding from the head. Azazel pulled out a ten thousand ruble bill and stuck it in the man's jacket pocket.
"That should pay the hospital bill." He turned around. "Lucya, correct? Are you alr-" He realized his mistake when he noticed her staring at his open left eye in shock and fear. Panicking, he closed his left eye.
"You really are a monster, aren't you?" She took a step back, trembling, before turning and running. He stood there for a few seconds before slowly picking up his groceries and leaving for home. The rumors were going to be terrible at school tomorrow.
Dazbog High School, Yekaterinburg, December 4th, 2077
"There he is. They say he's a monster."
"The closed eye of his is apparently a demon's eye."
"I heard he beat someone half to death. Normal people don't do that."
"Careful. If he overhears you, he might kill you."
The crowd parted before him like the Red Sea before Moses, whispers and rumors traveling through the masses. They feared him. They all did. He just wanted to get this day over with so he could spend the weekend with Rasputin.
At 12:40, The lunch bell rang. After that, he had two more classes and was home free. Before he could get up, however, two girls walked over to his desk, Lucya shyly trailing behind them. No one else in the class had moved waiting to see what would happen.
"We heard you were a monster. Your left eye reveals the truth. Why don't you open it?" Azazel merely looked up at them, uncaring.
"If I really was a monster, you two wouldn't try and order me around like you're doing." The girl on the right- blond hair, emerald eyes- sniffed haughtily.
"Oh, please. We heard what you did. You tried to rape her, and when someone came to stop you, you beat him half to death while Lucya escaped. I still don't know why she hadn't called the cops on you." Azazel's open eye narrowed.
"Well, have you asked Lucya personally what exactly happened? You might be surprised to find out how different the story is from the source than from rumors." The girls looked back at Lucya.
"He can't be telling the truth, right? What we said was correct, wasn't it?" Lucya looked between her friends and the white-haired boy, before slowly- nervously- nodding. Azazel's eye narrowed further in anger.
"I can't believe you... you just go along with them? You're a terrible excuse for a human. Remember what happened last night? I helped you. I rescued you. Do you realize where you'd be without me right now? Do you?" Azazel's voice slowly rose in volume, anger rolling off of him in waves. Lucya shook her head, trembling. "You'd be naked on a bed, crying as some stranger used you body for as long as he wishes! Without me, you'd be a sex slave, sold off to the highest bidder! Your family wouldn't know where you are, you'd have no one to help you, your dreams, your ambitions, your future, they'd all be gone, lost in the wind as you cry over the fact that life you wished you could have had was ripped away from you because some common thug sold you in a human trafficking auction! I SAVED YOUR LIFE, AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME?! YOU BRAND ME AS THE MONSTER, THE DEMON, THE VILLAIN AFTER RESCUING YOU?! I KNOCKED A CRIMINAL UNCONSCIOUS TO SAVE YOU, AND THIS IS THE THANKS I GET?!" By this time, he had gotten up, slowly walked towards her, and had her backed up against the wall, everyone stunned by his tirade. "Why don't you think about who's the real monster here?" He walked over to the door, kicking it clean off its hinges.
He turned back to look at the class, both eyes open in cold fury. Everyone was terrified. Fine, let them be. If he was going to be the villain, then he would give them a reason to see him as such.
"You all disgust me. Every single one of you. And you," he pointed at the shaking Lucya. "Never let me see your face again." As Azazel left, silence reigned in the classroom. A few seconds later, Lucya herself rushed out of the classroom.
"Wait! Lucya, what are you doing?!" one of her friends asked.
"I need to go apologize to him!"
Across the city, ten minutes later, Azazel was sitting on a roof of a large building. He wasn't sure what it was, possibly a department store. He laid back, legs dangling off the roof as he watched the clouds. It was actually quite nice, considering his love of the generally fast-paced and highly volatile. His mind went back to the classroom.
"Damn..." he glanced around. "I'll see how Rasputin's doing."
On thew other side of the city, near the school, Lucya was still searching for him. Up and down, she checked nearly every street within a kilometer diameter, but found no sight of him. She fell to her knees, sobbing.
"He hates me now... and I'll never get to thank him for saving me. Why didn't I tell them the truth? Why can't I be stronger?"
"Hey, Rasputin!" The Warmind perked up at the voice.
"Hello, Azazel. Aren't you supposed to be in school right now?" Rasputin queried. Azazel just grimaced.
"A few things happened. I don't want to be around them right now. Actually, I need to burn some energy pretty badly, so I need a real challenge. How are the bots? Are they coming along well?"
"Actually, I was going to have you test them today." Azazel grinned.
"Perfect! Fire 'em up!" the white haired boy said as he slid into a fighting stance. "I need to break a few things."
"Deploying Seraphim Test-A prototype training bots." eight panels opened up, two on each side of the square room, deploying eight steel rough, boxy robots which looked to be little more than a robotic endoskeleton, all standing at about seven feet tall.
"Alright! Let's see what these puppies can do!" In less than a second, he crossed the large room and threw a strong uppercut at the bot, labeled 03, but his fist was caught, the metal extremity slightly crumpling, but had his hand in a vice-grip.
Damn... Their reaction time is incredible! He tried pulling his fist away, but to no effort. And so is their grip! However... he thought as he lifted the bot into the air with his caught arm...
"I'm still stronger!" He dashed over to bot 04, swinging 03 by his trapped fist as a weapon. 04 Wasn't having trouble blocking his fellow bot, but its arms were taking some damage, and 03 was getting destroyed more and more with every hit. After enough hits, 04's arms crumpled in on themselves, and 03 was beaten beyond repair. Quickly prying the arms from the robot's grip, he blurred behind 04, giving it a roundhouse kick into the wall with his left foot, finishing it off with a straight kick.
"Two down- whoa!" Azazel had to quickly duck, dodge and dive two avoid four other robots' punches and kicks. He got out of the metal mosh pit unharmed, but now he had to face four at a time. Shit.
Quickly blurring in front of 02, he feinted a punch that, rather than catch like the last bot, made an effort to block and counter. They seem to learn from each other. Can't use the same tactics twice. Feinting the punch, he dashed behind 08, knocking its head off with a spinning back kick before grabbing and throwing the body at 01, sliding under the empty frame just as it was caught and delivered a spring-up double kick that left two large dents in the torso and left the innards crushed. Turning to 02 and 08, he pulled out his knife.
Forged by Rasputin, this was a high carbon steel knife with a thirteen inch blade, silver, and a divot that started at the back of the blade, going toward the edge at an outward angle. The handle was very unorthodox, being much smaller then normal handles, but had two rings meant for the index and pinkie finger to fit in, similar to brass knuckles, while the handle between the rings was wrapped in a black cloth to give it a bit more substance. Giving the dagger no more than a glance, Azazel rushed the last two.
Ducking under 02's left hook, he quickly sliced at the elbow and shoulder joint, rendering the left arm useless, ducking under the spinning kick, before turning around and stabbing 08 in the eye socket, leaving the bot blind. Azazel flipped over 02, performing a spin kick on its back in midair. 02 crashed into 08 just as Azazel touched the ground, immediately leaping at both of them, decapitating 02 and stabbing 08 in the chest cavity, straight through the CPU.
The teen wrenched his blade out of the robot, standing up slowly, admiring his work.
"How'd I do?"
"Exceedingly well. You've long surpassed human capabilities. This time, you've even broken your personal records. I'm saving them in the log. Is there anything else you plan to do today? Any... video games, perhaps?" Azazel could hear Rasputin grinning.
"Hell no! I always lose! How am I supposed to beat a frame-perfect supercomputer?" Laughter resonated throughout the room.
Yekaterinburg, December 18, 2079
Azazel never liked how Russia's break system worked. Instead of December, they had two weeks off in January, so he was still stuck in school. Today was Saturday, though. He had noticed that Lucya had tried to work up the courage to speak to him, but continuously failed to do so, despite it being two years after the offense.
Eh, she'll approach me if she's really sorry.
He didn't plan to talk to her of his own volition. If she gathered the strength to go to him herself, then he would forgive her. Probably.
He had to make a late night run for some groceries to get some eggs, milk and coffee, among other less important things. It only took him about thirty minutes to get there and pick up the groceries, but it had gotten dark rather quickly, even for Winter. Azazel looked around, deciding to go into a back alley and take a shortcut home. Making his way quickly through the network of alleyways, he dodged any sort of noises that may have been real, or just his paranoia. Either way, he wasn't taking any chances. He turned a corner, slowing down to a walk. Silence. Alright, he was in the clear-
Some sort of laser beam whizzed by his head, impacting the wall behind him and blowing a chunk out of it. He quickly jumped back behind the corner, whipping out his phone and using the camera to peek around the corner.
What the shit?
A glowing red... eye? No, a lens! Some sort of robot was just sitting there, around the corner. He turned up the brightness so the killer robot could be more clearly seen. He was met with what looked like some kind of metal skeleton with a single red eye, a cream-colored core... thing, and a large headdress, similar to what ancient Native American chiefs wore. Oh, and it was also shooting lasers.
Shit!
Two more beams flew past him, almost hitting his phone. He pulled out his pistol, a small .22 caliber for self-defense, quickly peeked out of the corner and pulled the trigger twice. One bullet barely dented the thing's head, while the other destroyed the lens on it. Electricity started surging through the droid as it started blindly firing and running at him. Azazel focused all of his concentration into shooting its head, but that didn't seem to do much other than empty his gun. He tossed it away, pulling out his knife instead. This thing was about to be right on top of him. He had to think quickly.
Oh, duh, the stomach!
He ducked under three lasers, lunging at the thing from a low angle, before impaling its core, making it fall to the ground, lifeless other than the bolts of static still coursing through it. Azazel whipped out his phone, falling to his knees so as to examine it. He hit the record button, inspecting the robot's corpse.
"This thing seems to be some sort of droid, highly advanced judging by the weaponry it has. The only thing I don't get is the core... Agh!" as he came in contact with the metal, he was electrocuted by the static, nearly paralyzing him. He could barely move, fighting the paralysis as he picked up his dropped phone. Good, still recording.
Something flashed behind him, whitish blue, lasting for only a second. Cold metal was pressed to the back of his head. Damn, still couldn't move. A charging noise, like a small generator. He switched to the facecam on his phone. Another once, but with a more triangular head.
"Sorry, Dad... So long."
Black.
Cosmodrome, Old Russia, Unknown
"Guardian? Guardian? Eyes up, Guardian..."
And chapter one is done! It was mainly focused on setting up a lot of Azazel's connection to the Destiny world, as well as exploring not only his character, but some things rarely seen anywhere else, such as fleshing out Rasputin.
*At this age, he looks kind of like Shiina (Sekirei).
**Here, and for the rest of the story, he's more similar to Bell Cranel (Danmachi) and/or Male!Homura (Sekirei). Just less boyish than Bell. You get what I'm saying.