Prologue

It was close to midnight, and the faraway stars made the streets glow in an unnatural way. Dark shapes were hovering over the dim lights and made the silhouettes of the otherwise ordinary cars into roaring monsters. The apartments were towering over a rapidly moving shadow. A pudgy man walked at a fast pace, close to running. His eyes held a deep desperation and kept surveying his surroundings. His appearance - everything from his greasy brown hair, to his wild desperate eyes and grim mouth set in a tight line - suggested that something was very, very wrong.

The man came to a halt, and stared right ahead of him. In front of his eyes a figure released itself from the murky shadows.

The new arrival was clothed in a dark cape, not really black, more like the color of dried blood. In the fabric it looked like small, nearly invisible faces yelled in soundless screams of pain.

Trapped souls, the pudgy man thought with a shudder.

He watched his opponent warily. He was young, that much he could tell, even though the hood made the upper half of the other man's face lay in the dark. Ink black hair peaked out from under the hood, but except for that - the man was only shades and shadows.

"You try to escape?" asked the dark caped man amused, and eyed him with a smirk on his lips. The pudgy man was not fooled by his opponents apparent light tone. "You know how our lord feels about people going back on their promises, Gabe."

The pudgy man - Gabe - gave an involuntary hiss. "He ain't my lord, he knows nothing about me," he wheezed, and tried to catch his breath from his earlier run. His hand crawled to his back pocket. In there he had hidden a small knife. Not much against his opponent, he knew that. But maybe it would be enough for him to quickly stab the young man and make a run for it.

The black haired seemed to notice Gabe's hand too, because he frowned and then sighed deeply.

"You think you'll actually be able to overthrow me with that pathetic pocket knife?" He gave a snort of humorless laughter. "You're even dumber than you look like Gabe, and that says a lot."

Gabe was starting to panic. A heavy feeling was weighing down his chest. His breaths came in shallow gasps and all his instincts screamed at him to bolt and get the hell out of here. But he was paralyzed in fear.

"What do you know about me? I want nothing to do with him! Nothing!" He nearly screamed out the last word.

Nothing, it echoed through the streets.

"Nothing," the young man repeated. Gabe could feel his icy stare on his bare skin, and felt coldness run down his spine.

The cloaked man moved faster than any human eye could register. One moment he stood casually in front of Gabe, the next he had him pinned to the wall, an arm to Gabe's throat.

"Nothing," he repeated coldly once again and ignored the man's strangled chokes. "Is that so Gabe. I can not remember you asking for nothing," he spit out the word. "when you came running to my lord with request after request. Money, Gabe. You owe him a great deal of it."

He let go of Gabe, who slided down the wall and massaged his raw throat.

"Time," Gabe croaked. "Just give me time, that's all I need. If you could tell him-"

"Tell him what exactly?" the man interrupted, his voice loud and clear in the silent night. "Tell him that I helped the coward who owes him money? Tell him that I gave you time to manage to rescue your own pathetic skin while leaving your family without a second thought?" He gave a noise of disgust and directed a kick at Gabe. "You know what will happen to them Gabe? Do you have any idea what will happen to your family?"

Gabe only laid emotionless on the ground, not saying a word. Clearly that wasn't what the cloaked man wanted to receive. "Answer me!"

Gabe could barely move his lips because of the fear he felt. "No," he managed to mumble.

The young man drew closer to Gabe and said sweetly: "I'll tell you, Gabe. They will pay your debts, and if they don't, they will end up just like you."

Gabe lunged forward and threw his knife at the young man. The knife hit the man in the right shoulder and he gave out a small gasp of pain. Then he sighed and slowly said: "So you have made your choice Gabe."

Gabe didn't understand, and he had no intentions finding out what his opponent had meant. He scrambled up to his feet, ignored the throbbing sensation to his ribs where the man's kick had been directed and ran off.

"A chase," the cloaked man mumbled while watching the pudgy little man run as fast as his chubby legs could. "It's been too long since the last time."

The young man shrugged of his dark cloak and revealed a slim, muscular body, though his hood still covered his face. The man started to spin his shoulders in small circles to warm up his stiff muscles, ignoring that a small pool of glistening blood started to form at his feet. Before he took off, he retrieved the pocket knife from his right shoulder. He didn't care that it only made the blood pour faster out of the wound. It was only muscles, it would heal.

He searched for Gabe, and his expert eyes find him almost immediately. Still running, the man thought with amusement. "There's no need for me to waste my breath on that coward," he said to himself and considered his options.

Finally he took aim with the small knife and took a careful grip at the edge of the sharp blade. He tipped the knife backwards, only to tip it forward a few seconds later.

He let the knife fly.

When the blade hit its target a satisfying crunch was heard. Gabe fell with a scream of pain and fear. He knew death was coming, and coming soon.

The young man took his time walking to Gabe, safe in the knowledge that he wouldn't get anywhere.

"You won't kill me," Gabe whispered when the young man got in hear range. The man raised an eyebrow.

"Why wouldn't I?" he asked amused. "I've got no reason not to end your useless life right now."

"You're lying," Gabe said, growing in confidence. He was still lying on the street, defenseless, but he was sure the man wouldn't kill him. "You want me to live," he said. "I owe him money, that's right. Your lord wants me to pay, I can't do that if I'm dead, can I?"

"Gabe, Gabe," the man sighed. He bent down and ripped out the knife of Gabe's leg - earning him a painful scream- and pressed the knife to the wounded man's throat. Gabe's breath hitched. "Have you not learned a thing?" the man asked. Gabe's pulse was quickening.

"Wha-what do you-"

"What I mean? Well Gabe, isn't that clear. I'm fully aware that you won't be able to pay if you're dead, but see, that's just a small obstacle. You still have a family, have you not? And I dare say that I have already mentioned them in our earlier, ah, conversations." He smiled.

Gabe was not a fool, he knew that unless a miracle happened right then and there, he would soon be dead. Unless...

"You're bluffing," he said, triumph shining in his greedy eyes. "You ain't gonna kill me 'cus you're bluffing."

The young man pressed the knife harder to Gabe's throat, small droplets of blood were set free. Suddenly he took away the knife.

The pressure disappeared and Gabe gave a sigh of release. His hand shivered when he took hold of his shirtsleeves. Pain was still throbbing through his body, and the ground swayed under his feet when he stood up. But he would live, he knew it.

A sudden movement to his left was the only warning he got before he was stabbed in the back. He gave a howl of misery, and fell once again to the street. Dust covered his eyesight for a short moment. The young man bent down and released the hood.

Ink black hair fell down in the face of a handsome teenager. The man - no the teen cupped Gabe's head gently, not a single move betraying the violence he had showed only a few minutes ago.

"Look me in the eyes," the teen whispered. "Look me in the eyes and say again that I'm bluffing."

The teen directed Gabe's head so they faced each other. The teens eyes were serious. They didn't move and they didn't flinch. Nothing told Gabe that he had ever stood a chance against this human.

"Don't you see," the teen said softly, releasing his hand from Gabe's cheek. "There was never a chance for you, and I can only hope that your wife and son is smarter than you were tonight."

The teen unsheathed a second knife that's been hidden under his black jacket.

Gabe looked the teen in the eyes when he got closer to strike, and he hoped for a flicker of something. Hesitation, fear. Some kind of emotion. He saw nothing.

The teen fell to his knees and held the knife in a firm and steady grip. The silver blade glinted in the faint light of the street lights.

The last thing Gave saw before the cold blade dedicated him its last touch was the teens eyes.

They were black, black like the soul of the devil himself.