Vindictive Seraph

PROLOGUE

PROLOGUE

Mumbai.

A land where dreams come true, this city plays host to people from all walks of life and all the niches of society. It is a city lost in glamour, power, wealth, religion, spirit, knowledge, culture, arts as much as it's tainted with the grime of crime, corruption, communal-ism, poverty, illiteracy and population explosion. While few become a rags to riches story, some move to greener pasteurs, there are those whose lives are wasted in the hands of this capricious concrete jungle. It is a city that locals proudly claim, never sleeps.

One part of this eventful city was prey to an eerie night, one which screamed danger and which threatened kids and the faint hearted to sit safe indoors. The dark alleys of Mumbai were busy as shadows scurried. The atmosphere was thick with the scent of fear and sweat that one could all but taste it. The reason was a new intruder to their drug dealing ring. A shady figure entered the limelight of the flickering streetlamp. His eyes were wide with terror while his tall and thin body trembled. A more burly man stepped away from the confused lots, "What happened?"

Gathering the courage to let an audible voice out the first man stuttered in his native tongue, "We-We're d-doomed." The silence was loud and cut the air like glass. Everyone had heard him speak. Those who hadn't would get the message hopefully some time before their death. The gravity of the situation could only be estimated by watching people who thwarted the law, sold drugs to kids and murdered turning to god. Little did they know that any amount of penance would be futile when they were up against the devil itself.

A new figure entered the light. One followed by a well built, tall troop who most certainly knew how to kill. The drug dealer's den was equipped for the onset of a fight which by the looks of it wasn't going to end well for them. They were blocked and cornered from all sides. They caught sight of the enemy approaching with a battalion. The light revealed a face which made their breaths catch in their throat.

A chillingly beautiful face with short hair cascading in layers till the collarbone, a face which could pass for a pretty boy's. But that physique was most certainly no boy's. The dangerous and sinful curves couldn't be hidden even when seen through those black ripped jeans, tank top, leather jacket till her knees and ankle length gumboots. Nor could they hide the lean but sturdy arms and legs or the snake tattoo which slithered wickedly on one side of her neck. The audience were in a Trans and far too intimidated to look at her face.

When she spoke, her voice was venomous and cold as ice and sharp as a blade but breath-taking nevertheless. "Kill them all. Run the place with their blood and screams and make it entertaining while you're at it. Let's see your worst and ugliest forms." The men didn't need second telling and nor did their leader's threat go unnoticed by their victims. They didn't need to know English to understand, the undercurrent in her tone betrayed her intentions. The gunshots, slashes and screams that followed were deafening and blood curdling. She watched it all, her lips curled in a sadistic smile enraptured in the bloodshed unfolding in front of her eyes.

A frail woman fell on her feet, tears dirtying her face while her eyes begged for mercy. Her face scrunched in disgust at the sight of the woman. One of her men way made his way towards them probably reading his leader's face. He could imagine her eyes lit with blood lust, "Azrael..."

"Psh.....I got this, James. Mind if I borrow your gun, pal?" He rolled his eyes, like she actually needed his permission. She would do whatever she pleases anyway, what's the fucking point? He flung his gun towards her not the least bit surprised when she caught it with lightning speed in her agile fingers. He couldn't deny being impressed by those graceful reflexes even after all these years.

Azrael toyed with the gun as the woman whimpered beneath her. She sighed in annoyance. She lifted the woman's chin to meet her dull brown eyes. Eyes overflowing with guilt, proof of her sins. Azrael saw hope in the woman's eyes as she tucked a stray strand of hair from her pathetic tear streaked face behind her ear.

The feeling of hope left as soon as it came replaced by a sinking pit in her stomach. All the awful things she had done came flooding back in her head as she met the piercing gaze of the devil in front of her. She screamed as a round of bullets was emptied on her. As her life ebbed away, she saw the cruelest face she'd ever seen. Staring at her was an otherworldly face with sharp distinct features, a perfect jawline and nose, pale skin with a faint glow and silver eyes that mirrored the inside of a grave. The face of death.