Damien through the ages.
Age: 0-born-
When Damien was born it wasn't a happy day, not like most babies. Well how could the birth of the anti Christ really ever be a happy day?...
Instead of happy cries of joy and praises of "It's a boy!!" there were screams of panic, and begging of "Oh god! What have I done?!" The mother of the just born, desperately trying to sit up, reaching her hands out, pleading for her child. While a man dressed in a pinstripe suit held the child tightly to his chest, his emotionless red eyes staring down at the woman. Not moving from the screaming mother, or towards her. Just standing there, still as a statue.
"PLEASE! GIVE ME MY SON!! OH GOD....Wh...please give him to me...!" The woman cried, her black hair falling over her eyes as she wept franticly, all the while reaching a hand out for the little bundle in the man's arms.
"Please....god...please..." She mumbled, not even looking at the figure beside her bed any more.
The baby in the man's arms held ever so still through the whole excitement. When most would be crying and squirming around, but no...this baby was deathly still...dully the man wondered if it was still alive, but then he chuckled. No a baby like this couldn't die. Not that easily.
"No. You knew the deal. You knew I needed a son, and with that I granted you your wish, to be able to have children. Now it is done." The man said coolly, his voice thick and hardly above a whisper as he tilted the bundle so the woman could see. Almost as if mocking her with what she had lost to him.
"Look into the face of the anti-Christ. Remember how YOUR son is going to kill the world. Remember his face.." The man cooed softly, as the black haired woman tilted her head upwards to see her beloved child.
Only to see the baby's black hair, and deep red eyes which were staring... The woman jerked away and buried her face into her hands. Only to whisper between the sobbing "Please god...rest my soul...save my child Damien...."