He Who Wears a Black Suit

|Meet Doug|

"Please!" she managed choked out. Everything slowly blurred. Her mouth was wide open as she felt the air in her lungs depleting, her face turned in a dark shade red, and her neck was tightening every second. 

"Foolish humans, destroying their own damn world," the old man spoke in a slow manner, his voice deep and raspy, "They like to walk away from their problems, leaving flames in their footsteps, yet they hope that everything will be fixed in time. They are afraid of judgement, afraid of being in the lowest point of society, but now, judgement doesn't exist anymore."

Emelie was losing her senses one by one but somehow, she could still hear the man's raspy voice.

"Now's the time for a new generation, where intelligent life forms will be born and will make this world great again. Humans have lost their meaning in life, killing themselves when mother earth need them the most in desperate times. Rejoice," he hissed like a snake, not noticing the figure behind him. "Now I'm just doing the job that you humans are so afraid to do-"

"Excuse me," the voice behind the old man said.

The old man slightly tilted his head upwards and loosened his grip around Emelie's throat little by little until she gasped aggressively for air, pulling herself away from whatever it was that hurt her.

"What brings you here?" the old man asked, looking over his bony shoulder.

"To stop you from interfering with my plans," the man answered back nonchalantly once again, repeating the words that the old man had said earlier.

When Emelie caught her breath, she sat up and looked at the man who had saved her life, intentionally or unintentionally. Her jaw dropped when she found out who he was. It was the man from earlier.

"I see," the old man hissed again. He stood up and faced the individual wearing a black suit.

He growled, "The time of these people is not yet over. They're not even supposed to take away their lives and now you're killing them for your own good."

Who exactly is he? What are they? Emelie thought, watching the two men. It didn't seemed like they were in good terms, too. She turned her head towards the exit, but curiosity got the best of her, so remained put, rubbing her sore neck. 

The old man snarled, "You only borrowed a body of a human. That doesn't exactly make you a hero."

"I never said I was one," the young man replied, maintaining his posture. "And this body is not borrowed. This body is mine."

"Oh?"

"This is a dead human's body I found on the ocean."

Emelie's whole body stiffened. She realise that it was probably the same person that he talked about earlier who jumped off the bridge. 

"That is depressing--you didn't save him though," the old man said playfully. "This dirty old man's body, is in fact alive."

"That wasn't part of what you're supposed to do," the young man said sternly, taking another step towards the entity that took over the old man's body. "What you're doing will not be tolerated."

"He'll be dead either way," black orbs appeared, floating inside the old man's pupils.

"Is that a threat?"

"Maybe, but not to you," the old man snapped, but was unsure of his words.

The young man took a few seconds to answer and he stared down into the old man's empty, soulless eyes that never blinked. "Let me repeat," he leaned forward and was now inches away from his wrinkly face, undisturbed by his almost-white pupils . "Is that a threat?"

The old man finally blinked, the orbs were now non-existent. After for what seemed like a minute, he finally said, "No. I'm afraid it is not." He looked down in defeat and took a step back. He grinned; his broken, yellow teeth were disturbing to look at. "My apologies, your highness-"

"Leave before I shred your own selfless entity into dust particles."

The old man arched downward limply, doing a very lazy bow. The tips of his toes started to touch the ground as he was slowly rising, until he was floating. He left the crate in silence, making no sound as he floated over scrapped metal and empty cans outside.

"What in the bloody heavens was that?" Emelie stuttered, disoriented. She peered over where the old man had left, but he was already gone.

"No matter," the young man assured her calmly. He crouched down in front of her and looked at her slightly bruised neck. "Looked like it hurt."

"'Course it did!"

He looked at her neck and brushed his fingers slowly over the side of it, sending shivers down her spine. "I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention to. . . I'm having a hard time coping in this world." He shut his eyes tightly, slapping himself internally for saying that. "I mean, I-"

"Please," Emelie begged. "Tell me who you are."

The man shook his head. "I wish I could tell you-"

"But you cant?" she finished the sentence for him.

He nodded slowly and looked everywhere other than Emelie's eyes.

"You're not from this world, are you?" she asked, putting a strand of hair behind her ear.

The man's grey eyes swiftly went left and right as he looked around, something he does when he's nervous.

Emelie nodded to her own question. "That's fine with me. But what can I call you?"

The man thought for a moment before he answered, "I believe I have already answered that."