I'll start with the warnings. First of all, Language! If you've seen Angels of Death you know that it's pretty fucked up. This story will be similar. My OC Vincent wants to die so trigger warning! I plan on this becoming yaoi as well so if you don't like that don't read. This will most likely only be a few chapters, but we'll see how it goes as I never have a plan when I write. I do like this anime and noticed an alarming lack of stories about it so I plan to write other stories eventually. Please favorite/review! Also, if there's a story you'd like to see about this anime, feel free to message me and I may take it into consideration when I write the next one. One last note about this story, Zack's burn scars do not cover his entire body! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Angels of Death or Isaac Foster! I do; however, own Vincent Miller!

Chapter 1

Vincent Miller wanted to die. For most people, the solution was simple, suicide. For Vinny, or Vince as his family called him, this was not an option however. He had been raised in a very religious household and while he did not agree with those beliefs, he still felt it was morally wrong to take one's own life. He also understood that suicide would hurt his family deeply, and while he hadn't had any contact with them in nearly five years, he still couldn't imagine causing them that much pain. This left only one solution. Someone needed to murder him.

Now, Vinny's life had not been overly horrible in his opinion. His parents may have been verbally abusive and his siblings physically abusive, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. In fact, his childhood is what he credits his major business success to. He had been so successful that he actually didn't even have to go to work anymore. Once a week he participated in a conference call with his board of directors, but other than that, he just collected his paycheck and stayed home. The income allowed him to live a very comfortable lifestyle and the maids and chef took care of any shopping, so he rarely felt the need to leave his house (which most people would actually call a mansion).

Vinny looked at himself in the bathroom mirror while these thoughts crossed his mind. His green eyes were dull and underlined by dark circles. Black hair hung low on his forehead, nearly covering his eyes. He was thin, a result of not eating enough, but muscular and looked quite intimidating at his height of 6'2". Exercise was one of his favorite pastimes as it was the closest he felt comfortable getting to killing himself. He would often run on the treadmill in his home gym until he passed out from exhaustion.

The depression he experienced had no discernible trigger. All Vinny knew was that every moment of his life felt like a living hell. So far he had done very little to further his goal of ending his existence beyond deciding that it would have to be murder. Vinny's 25th birthday was coming up in about a week and he decided that 25 was a perfect age to die, primarily because he liked that number. This meant that he would have to start doing some serious planning. The planning would start at the library, he decided. He left the bathroom, dropping the towel from his waist on the bedroom floor and stepped into the walk-in closet to dress.

Vinny was considered a highly eligible bachelor by the media and his home was watched by the occasional paparazzi member, so he liked to disguise himself and sneak out with the help of one of the maids or kitchen staff. Today, seeing as it was fall, he decided on a white tank top under an old, faded Oakland Athletics baseball hooded sweatshirt. Pulling on some boxers and a well worn pair of blue jeans, Vinny decided to ask Rose for help getting out today. She had worked for him the longest and, at 57 years old, she could easily pass as his mother. Playing the part of a maid's son, dressed as he currently was, should be enough to help him leave the house unnoticed.

Rose agreed immediately and Vinny knew it was because she was just happy he was leaving the house. He pulled his hood up and sank down into the passenger seat of her old Honda Civic. It was gray and a little rusty, but she kept it clean and the inside smelled of cherry from her air freshener. Slouching as much as was comfortable, he hoped to hide his face from anyone who may watch their exit. This act was slightly difficult with his height in the small car, but he thought he managed to look convincing.

Before stepping out of the car at the library, he pulled a stocking hat over his hair and pushed his hood back. He never changed his hair so it was something that he could be recognized by and he knew hoods were frowned upon in the library. Vinny's goal today was to research recent killings in the area to determine the best place and time of day for his murder. It was not information he wanted to have associated with his personal computer, so the public computers at the library were the safest bet.

Less than an hour later he exited the library with a plan. He hadn't written anything down as he wanted to avoid that information getting into the wrong hands. There had been a lot of murders in the area of San Leandro Street near the business district lately and though the victims were women he thought he could convince the murderer to kill him as well. Rose was just returning from her shopping trip and picked Vinny up on the way back. As she drove he thought about the best times and decided to go to that area the day after his birthday around 8pm. He shivered slightly in excitement at the idea as they neared his house.

The next week passed slowly for Vinny. Being a rich man, his affairs had been in order for a long time. He already had a will, a death plan and a business plan for how the company should be handled if he were to meet an "untimely" death. He chuckled at the wording. The house was always in order with the maids and staff keeping everything clean. Important papers were all kept in his home office and his will held the combination to his safe with the instructions.

Vinny started going out more often during that week. He didn't want his trip the day after his birthday to seem sudden or abnormal. The week was slow because he did not enjoy going out. He wasn't particularly social and had no real friends to speak of. There were business associates that he had to go golfing with or attend an occasional dinner party with, but he wouldn't call them friends. He was close with his staff at the house, but they were more like family who happened to work for him, not friends.

His time that week was spent by visiting a few local museums and art shows. Vinny even went to see a documentary about a country overseas that his business had been contemplating working in. All of the activities he chose would look normal for a person of his social standing. They were either common leisure activities or could be considered business related, like the documentary.

The day of his birthday he was subjected to one of his least favorite events, the party that his corporate office threw for him every year. He hated gifts so he always specified that if anyone wanted to give him something they could donate to a local charity. He chose a different one every year. Depending on the year, donations would average $500,000 to $1 million which looked very good for his company. The board was happy about that part, but Vinny was just happy that the money was going to those who actually needed it. He left the party at a respectable 11pm.

Vinny woke the next morning feeling happier than he had ever felt in his life. He took a quick shower and made his way to the kitchen, holding himself together so as not to seem overly cheerful. If the staff thought he was acting strangely they might question him. When he walked into the kitchen he was displaying only his normal, tired expression as he asked the chef for some raspberry pancakes, his favorite. Dressed in a faded pair of blue jeans and a dark gray hooded sweatshirt, Vinny left the house.

When making these plans Vinny had decided to wait to go to San Leandro Street until later at night, but he just couldn't sit at home and wait. To avoid the potential paparazzi he used the rear exit, cutting through the trees and walking the mile to the bus stop. The bus driver that always drove this route knew Vinny quite well, so he was never bothered when the man hid his face as he stepped on board. The older gentleman nodded to him and accepted his ticket. Vinny then moved to the back of the bus, out of sight of the other riders, to travel to his destination peacefully.

Vinny wandered the town rather aimlessly for the rest of the day. He was wearing his usual hat and dark sunglasses to hide his identity as he wandered. He got Mexican food for lunch, another of his favorites, and ate it in a park sitting near a small pond. As the day dragged on Vinny's excitement grew and he had to restrain himself from heading to San Leandro Street too early. When the sun was almost fully behind the horizon he finally allowed himself to go to his predetermined location.

Isaac Foster loved killing. When his scythe was in his hands and blood was raining down was the only time he felt truly alive. In fact it was the only time he felt much of anything, other than anger. The anger was always directed at his past and the people who had raised him at the orphanage, so he tried not to think about it overly often. Isaac, or Zack as he liked to be called, spent his days sleeping in an abandoned shack in a small wooded area just outside of town. When it got dark, he would head into town to hunt for his next victim.

Tonight was no different. He made his way to the usual area, using back streets and alleys in an attempt to avoid any of the police who had been looking for him for months now. Honestly he didn't care if they found him. He had escaped from prison before and knew he could do it again. If they ended up killing him he supposed that would be okay too, even if he really wanted to keep on living. The primary thing that kept him going, kept him content, was killing, so if he was unable to do that then death would be the next best option. He was hoping to kill again tonight. Eventually he knew he would have to pick a new location as people had noticed his presence and stopped coming to this area as much. Just one more night, he thought as he rounded the last corner.

Street lights began flickering to life as Vinny continued walking. He had been in this area for about an hour now, but had yet to see a single soul. Despite all of his research, he was beginning to doubt that this area was all that dangerous. Deciding to switch it up a little, Vinny suddenly ducked into an alley, forcing himself to remain calm and try not to look as excited as he felt. He supposed that if he had not seen anyone by 11PM he would need to head home so as to avoid suspicion from his staff, but the night was young and his hopes were high.

In his excitement it took Vinny a moment to recognize the sound of footsteps behind him. He continued walking as though he hadn't noticed, but his heart was pounding in his chest and he could hear his blood racing in time with the pounding. His breathing quickened and he struggled to keep himself calm. A serial killer would most likely prefer it if he didn't know they were coming and if it was just another person he didn't want to draw attention to himself.

"Hey you," the person behind him suddenly called out, the voice carrying the lilt of a sneer. "Do you know where you are?"

Clearly the person was talking to him and expected an answer, so Vinny stopped and turned to face the man. He had imagined this moment so many times throughout his life, but nothing compared to the sight he was now faced with. A young man of similar height stood before him, wearing red pants, black boots, and blood-stained, brown sweatshirt that had black arrows in random places on it. Carelessly slung over one shoulder, as though it weighed nothing, was a long, black scythe. The weapon was simple and smooth, but the amount of dried blood covering the blade would send chills through the average person even if it wasn't being wielded by a very capable looking young man.

As his gaze finally left the blade, Vinny made eye contact with the killer and that was when he noticed the color. The right eye was black, but the left one was gold. He had never seen eyes like that before and, just for one moment, Vinny allowed himself to look at the face before him as though he were meeting a regular stranger on the street and not the person who would end his miserable life. He took in the black hair, hidden beneath the hood of the brown sweatshirt, and the bandages that covered every inch of exposed skin, but somehow accented the angles of the man's face making him look mysterious, but intimidating, and most of all, powerful. Vinny thought that it would be very nice to die at the hands of such a handsome man.

"I asked you a fucking question!" The man shouted, clearly upset by the amount of time it took for Vinny to respond.

"Uh...near San Leandro Street?" The man scowled at his answer, clearly not pleased.

"That ain't what I meant," he growled, his face morphing into a psychotic grin as he raised the scythe above his head. "You're in my neighborhood, and now your gonna die!" He laughed and began to run toward where Vinny stood at the opposite end of the alley.

Vinny dropped his head for a moment, to sigh in relief, before tilting his face to the sky. He closed his eyes and smiled as he listened to the other man's steps getting closer and closer. Many times before he had heard that your life would flash before your eyes when you were about to die, but that didn't happen as he stood there. All he could think about was the young man coming toward him. Vinny found himself wishing that he would have just enough time to kiss the man before he died from his injuries, but he would be happy even if he couldn't do that. Suddenly he realized that if he wouldn't be able to do that, then he at least wanted to see the joy on the other man's face as he took his life. He quickly opened his eyes and looked down.

Zack was about four feet away from his victim when the man lost his creepy smile and made eye contact with him. None of this was going the way it was supposed to. People were supposed to scream when they saw him and then run or at least cry when they realized they were going to die. This man almost looked as if he had wanted this from the start, as if he had waited for Zack to come and take his life. This was wrong. Zack immediately stopped and put his scythe back over his shoulder.

"What the fuck is wrong with you," he demanded. Vinny's eyes widened momentarily, but he decided to play if off.

"Well, you intend to kill me right? If I have no hope of getting away, why should I bother to try?"

"The screams and the chase are what make it fun," came the immediate reply. Crap, Vinny thought. I can't lose this opportunity.

"I can scream! I run every day, though. What if I'm faster than you?" He was panicking now, but he would do whatever this man wanted so long as it resulted in his death. "Tell me what you want and I'll do it!"

"What the fuck? Do you want to die?"

"Is that bad? I want to die, but you want to kill, right? We'd be helping each other out. Please, just tell me what to do. I'll do whatever you want!"

"Yeah, okay...where are the cops hiding at?" Zack chuckled. "They can't find me normally so they're using you as bait, right? They know they can't keep me in prison since they failed before so they're using you to lure me to a spot where they can kill me, right?"

"What? No, I'm famous. The cops would never...I mean! Shit...Look, you can just kill me right here and then keep on evading the cops like you said. I'll do whatever you want, but I swear, the cops have no idea where I am right now." Vinny wanted to kick himself. Why had he admitted he was famous? Now this man would definitely not want to kill him because of the massive manhunt that would ensue as a result of Vinny's death. None of this was working out like it was supposed to.

"You're fucking famous?! Do you like, live in a mansion?" The man seemed surprised, but mostly curious. Vinny shrugged.

"I guess most people would call it that, yeah."

"Do you have servants and shit too?"

"Well, yeah..." Vinny wasn't sure where this guy was going with this line of questioning, but he was getting a little uncomfortable. He hadn't come here to talk about his shitty life. He just wanted to die.

"I ain't gonna kill ya." Suddenly the other man was walking away from him, in the direction he had come from. Vinny started to panic again.

"What?! Why not? Isn't that what you wanted to do in the first place? Here...Ahhh!" He screamed and ran past the other man, hoping that he was doing what the killer had wanted. After a few seconds he noticed that he wasn't being followed and stopped to look back. The killer stood still in the alley way, looking bored. When Vinny looked at him, he rolled his eyes and scratched his head with his free hand. The other hand hung limply over the handle of his scythe. Clearly he had no intentions of chasing Vinny.

"Please, just tell me what you want?" Vinny's voice came out sounding like a mixture of pleading and sobbing. He sounded so defeated that Zack finally took pity on him.

"What I want is for you to take me to your mansion."

"...What?" He had no idea what he had been expecting the serial killer to ask for, but that certainly wasn't it. There was no way he could take this guy to his house! First of all, if they were caught he would be arrested for harboring a criminal. Also, there was no way he would be willing to put his staff in danger by bringing a murderer into his home and their place of employment.

"You heard me. Show me why your life is so terrible that you need to die! If you can convince me, then I'll make it look like a burglary and kill you. Deal?" It was such a tempting offer, but Vinny's mind kept circling back to his staff. Under no circumstances could he allow them to get hurt.

"If I agree...can you promise me one thing?" Zack furrowed his brows, but Vinny couldn't tell if he looked confused or just cautious.

"I'm listening."

"The people who work for me...the 'servants,' can you promise me that you won't hurt them?"

"Ah geez! You realize that your asking me to kill you and leave a crap ton of witnesses, right? Shit," Zack cursed and kicked the ground, scowling at it as he thought about this situation. If this rich guy wanted to die so bad, then why the fuck did he care so much about a bunch of servants' lives after he was gone. Zack released a groan that came out sounding like a growl before looking back up at the crazy guy in front of him. "Fuck! Fine, I'll make sure that I kill you at night or something. That way there won't be any people to see me and I won't hurt anyone if they do. It's not like the police don't already know who I am, so if they talk it won't make a difference anyway."

"Thank you," Vinny breathed a sigh of relief and then turned to begin the long walk to his home. There were no buses running this late at night and he didn't think the serial killer would like that option to begin with. He also couldn't risk calling one of his staff for a ride since he would need this man to hide the scythe and lose the blood-stained sweatshirt before they saw him.

The farther they walked the more the killer started to complain, but other than the occasional grumble or complaint, they walked in silence. It took about two hours for them to reach the part of the road where Vinny cut into the woods. He explained to the other man that he took this way to avoid the paparazzi that watched his front entrance. When the mansion came into view the killer finally spoke.

"Holy shit! This is where you live?" Vinny nodded and lead the way through the back door. They didn't stop until they reached the master bedroom. "Damn...you know, you're probably gonna have a hard time convincing me."

"Huh," Vinny let out a humorless chuckle. "Well, let's worry about that later. If you're going to stay here without having my staff call the police immediately, you'll need to change clothes and hide the scythe somewhere for now."

"Well, these are the only clothes I own," Zack said as he looked down at himself. He wasn't thrilled about having to change, but it had been a long time since he wore clothing that were cleaned by something other than just rain water. Hiding the scythe wouldn't be terrible as long as he was allowed to keep his knife on him. When he looked up the rich man was walking into a room that appeared to be a closet and Zack followed.

"I think I have some clothes that will fit you. By the way, what's your name? Or what would you like me to call you while you're here?"

"I go by Zack. What's yours?"

"Uh...Vincent Miller, but I go by Vinny. You might have heard about me or read about me in the news."

"I can't read. And if I don't own clothes do you think I own a TV? It's not like I can just walk into a bar and watch TV without getting arrested." Zack shrugged and once again Vinny found it difficult to tell what he was feeling. He looked as though he was either annoyed or resigned, like it was completely normal for him to live that way and he accepted it. He suddenly realized what part of the problem was.

"The bandages..."

"What about them?" Zack sounded defensive now.

"Can I ask why you were them?"

"The guy who owned the house I grew up in lit me on fucking fire when I was a kid. Some of these cover the scars. The others I wear just to hide my identity." Talking about his past made him start to feel some of the usual anger and his hands gripped the handle of the scythe tightly. The only reason he brought it up was because his childhood had been horrible and he wanted to prove to this crazy guy that his own life was a piece of cake in comparison. Vinny failed to notice it as he was looking down at his phone. He had found a police sketch of Zack online and held it up.

"They sketched you with them on, so while you're here you might want to take them off Isaac Foster. Someone might recognize you otherwise and my staff will not wait for confirmation of your identity before they call the police. They're pretty protective of me."

Zack scowled at the use of his full name, but he agreed. As he stood there, Vinny handed him a pair of red skinny jeans, a black t-shirt and a black hooded-sweatshirt to wear in the morning. He was rummaging around in a drawer full of pajama pants when he finally looked back up at Zack.

"Do you wear pajamas?" Zack laughed. He had never been asked that question in his life and he found it incredibly funny. When he managed to get himself under control again he responded.

"Only when I was a kid. Now I just sleep in my clothes when it's cold or in my underwear when it's hot outside." Vinny nodded and pulled a brand new package of boxers from a different drawer and handed them to Zack.

"I'll just put your clothes into a bag and hide them with the scythe. The only room in the house my staff never enters is my office. There is a small closet there so I'll put them both in there while you change. Feel free to shower as well. Bathroom's through that door," he pointed as he walked out of the closet carrying the scythe. He waited for Zack to strip out of his old clothes and placed them in a bag before leaving the room.

Once Vinny was gone Zack walked into the bathroom and began removing all of his bandages. He found that he was actually a little nervous to go without them, but he was happy the shirt he had been given was long-sleeved. There was a long burn scar on his left side covering the underside of his arm from just above his wrist all the way up to about three inches above his elbow. There were a few other burn scars across his back and in a few places on his legs. Those were the only places where the burns had been bad enough that the doctors hadn't been able to cosmetically fix him.

When he had been lit on fire he had been burned practically from head to toe, but he had been taken to the hospital quickly and they were able to repair most of the damage. As he removed the final bandages from his face he caught a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror and blinked in surprise. He wasn't used to seeing his bare face, hadn't seen it reflected in nearly a decade in fact, and he was surprised at how much older he looked.

Zack shook his head and looked away from the mirror to find the shower. It took him a moment to figure out how the water turned on, but once it was running he stepped into it's warmth and quickly showered, using Vinny's shampoo. He couldn't read any of the bottles, but it was the only bottle that contained liquid of the correct consistency for shampoo. When he was done he dried himself with a towel from a rack near the shower and then pulled on one of the new pairs of boxers before walking back into the bedroom.

Vinny was back in the room and was standing by the bed. He was also only wearing boxers, but his back was to Zack so the killer took a moment admire the body before him. Immediately he noticed how muscular the man was, but something seemed off. One word came to mind, malnourished. It was a word the doctors had used to describe him once upon a time and he remembered that it meant that someone hadn't been eating enough.

"So you came to me because starvation didn't work?" Vinny jumped at the sound of Zack's voice and turned to face him.

"No, no! That's not it! Suicide isn't an option. I came to you because it was the only option for me. If I killed myself it would hurt a lot of people so much more than my murder would."

"Uhuh. Sure," Zack didn't sound convinced, but he let the subject drop. "So, where will I be sleeping?"

"Well...that's the next thing we need to talk about. You see...the only way I can explain to my staff the reason for you being here is by telling them that I'm taking a lover." Zack raised his eyebrows and Vinny rushed to explain. "I've only ever had people spend the night here who I've slept with so it's the only thing they would possibly believe! In order for it to be convincing you'd have to sleep with me...I mean, in my bed! You'd have to sleep here." He sighed and hoped that Zack would understand.

There was a moment when he had wanted to kiss Zack, but in no situation what-so-ever did he imagine himself fucking his murderer. It was at this moment that Vinny noticed Zack's lack of clothing. His brain temporarily forgot what he was just saying and allowed his eyes to roam freely over every uncovered (and thinly covered) inch of the man standing before him. Even with the burn scars Zack was incredibly attractive and Vinny's brain began conjuring images of this man beneath him, mouth open in ecstasy. A cough brought him quickly out of his inappropriate thoughts and he blushed lightly as his eyes met Zack's. Zack smirked.

"Sure. I'll sleep with ya." He was clearly joking, but Vinny did not fail to notice the way Zack's eyes traveled hungrily over his body before the killer walked to the opposite side of the bed and climbed in. He laid down and immediately turned to face Vinny.

As he climbed in beside the killer Vinny shivered, and he couldn't tell if it was because he was nervous or excited, because the gaze that was currently resting on his body was that of a predator looking at his prey. Would he be fucked or killed, or was the killer just fucking with his head? There was no easy answer to that question, so Vinny reached up to turn off the light and resigned himself to whatever was fated to happen on this night.