THE FORMIDABLES

#1 | ALL THE LITTLE KIDS

Warning: °•-Violence and mature themes ahead! Reader's discretion is advised.-•°

- New World, Denmark, The Ashen Main Headquarters, Sunday, 10:14pm.

"Disperse." The Commander of The Ashen stated. Swiftly, all the other assassins present in the training room made for the exit leaving The Commander alone with his son.

"I don't see why you protect that ungrateful brat father." Gerald stood shirtless and sweaty, seething and glaring daggers at his father who circled around him with a branding iron in his hands.

"On an informal basis now are we?" The Commander smirked, prompting Gerald to take a huge gulp. "Mm, let me remind you my son. You may never informally address me to my face. Save it for the public. Right now, you are to call me Commander and I will address with your alias; Blood." He swung the branding iron at Blood but he quickly sidestepped, dodging it.

"Still, why am I being punished? Death matches are allowed in The Ashen. So tell me what my offense is, Commander." Blood faked his courage even though he knew The Commander could see right through him.

"Your offense is this." He slapped Blood across the left cheek, hitting a fresh cut that was there underneath his left eye and grabbed his face. "You lost. And you've got this scar on your face as proof! Despicable..." He scrunched his face in disgust.

"What are you talking about?!" Blood yanked his face from The Commander's vice grip. "I'm still breathing, I didn't lose. It isn't called a death match for nothing Commander." Blood took a few steps back, unsure of the deranged commander's next move.

"You would have died if I didn't interfere and you know it. You lost. You are not in his league. Take a look at him, he's untouchable." The Commander mocked with a smug grin, pulling out a gun and aiming it, as well as the branding iron at Blood. "Fight me now."

'This is all happening because of that brat... That abomination!' Blood thought to himself as he gave more distance between them and pulled out Kori, his self-crafted sword who's blade was 15 centimeters wide and 15 inches long.

Instantly, before Blood could draw a stance, The Commander closed the gap between them and shot at Blood while harmoniously swinging the hot rod at him. Blood managed to dodge the bullet but the iron struck and burnt his back.

Willing himself not to make a sound after getting hit, Blood quickly put distance between them again but The Commander easily closed the distance, thus giving chase to Blood who kept leaping away.

"You can't dodge bullets as easily and prepare a counter quick enough in close range... Heh, do you know who can?" The Commander laughed wildly, staying on the spot instead of closing the gap but his words provoked Blood instead to close gap between them.

"Don't you dare say his name...!" Blood raised his sword to strike but his eyes widened seeing The Commander's next move.

"Fool," he breathed, pulling the trigger but Blood deflected the bullet with his sword. "Ah..." The commander smiled. "Still a fool." He wacked Blood on his side with the iron and before Blood could do anything, he'd shoot, so that while he blocked the shots, he would strike him with the iron. This cycle went on till Blood collapsed with burns scattered across his torso. "Train harder and stop complaining. Once you are able to inflict even a scar on him then I'll consider you. Tch, and you went for a death match with him. Prove to me you don't take after your weak mother." The Commander spat and hissed, then left him in the room.

"What does my father see in that bag of trash? He's an abomination. He was never supposed to happen! I swear I'll kill him..." He sobbed from the uncontrollable rage, still sprawled on the cold cemented floor, "I'll kill you, Lance. I swear, kill me, or I kill you. I swear."