Azazel

by Nameless

  Chapter one: Further into madness

  Bleeding out onto the road as I lay motionless I begin to smile. These are to be my very last moments in the world of the living. My name is Azazel, a piss poor name if I do say so myself, however I have come quite attached to the name that represents me so well.

  Born and raised in the murder capital of the world, Honduras, my life isn’t, or wasn’t what you would have called luxurious but I loved every second. Life in Honduras, kill or be killed, kill to survive, deal drugs, get in a gang, become someone, or if you’re like me, kill every motherfucker who deserves it. You see I have a twisted ideology on the take of life, you reap what you sow but I’m the reaper that reaps for the defenceless, for the ailing, for the children and for the weak.

  No sooner than I was spat out into this delightful world by a supposed crack-head mother who sold me for whatever drugs she could buy I was saved. A man with no name raised me until I was seven. I vaguely recall what he was like being so many years ago. All I can recall is that he was some kind of soldier, the only claim to this is that he was very well organised and he trained me daily. In fact he trained me way past breaking point. Apparently I was not the first kid he had come across but I was the best test subject, or so he put it. Either way he made me into one of the best killing machines this world has seen with a dead eye shot.

  I use to kill to survive after being left on my own at the age of seven. Tossed onto the streets after the man with no name just disappeared into nothingness, more than likely killed, yet I hardly doubt it. Time passed and I was quickly known as the demon of Honduras, a ruthless, relentless, bloodthirsty killer and guess what, they weren’t wrong. From the age of seven up until around the age of thirteen I had killed more than two hundred gangsters, drug dealers and even military personnel, I had something they didn’t. Roughly four times faster than anyone I had come across my senses where beyond human. My hearing, reflexes, sight and smell were impeccable, yet still I lay sprawled out on a dirty mud road in between two rows of shanty shops.

  People gathered around staring at me like common trash, oh how I pity them, living their life in such fear and guilt. Three bullet holes in my side and two in my legs, yet not one person was willing to help a fifteen year old lad, what a joke, but at least my life was fun. Smiling as all life began to fade the bastard who shot me came stumbling out of the building I had assaulted, silver coloured gun in hand pointed up at the innocent crowd of people.

  Done in by some infamous drug lord who was now threating the lives of innocent bystanders I felt sick instead of happy. Not too long ago I had stolen some rust bucket of a car and smashed it directly into a shanty shop building, armed to the teeth with a Tactical semi-automatic shotgun on my back, two nine gen glocks on either side of my hip some wondered how on earth I procured such glorious weapons. Then again when you kill corrupt military personnel you find a vast treasure trove of wonderful weapons.

  What got me killed wasn’t this asshole waving his gun and firing at innocent bystanders it was my lack of planning. I’m not the most patient guy or the brightest. I know how to kill, I know how to fight and that is good enough for me.

  As the car smashed through the front of the shop I continued to press that damn accelerator to the floor of the rusted Fiat Punto. Debris flew everywhere, it was such a rush as my adrenaline kicked into overdrive and the car continued to the back of the store, smashing through shop shelves and hitting the crook of a shop owner. With him sprawled out on my windshield I removed my H4 Shotgun pointed it at the window screen and shot the bastards head clean off. Not long after the car came to a halt, unable to move anymore as it had smashed through two walls, god knows how many shelves and other objects but I was at my destination.

  Wearing nothing but my rag red t-shirt, black torn bottoms and scraggy black boots I blended in well with the poorer side of Honduras. My hair jet black it was quite long, coming past my eyes. I was also the skinniest thing you would have ever met too even though I ate like a pig.

  Booting my way out of the Fiat Punto’s side door, black shotgun in hand I looked around grabbing my bearings as I saw several bullets heading in my direction, dodging them with ease. I said I was fast, fast enough to dodge bullets, fast enough to see them too.

  Adrenaline pumping around my body was like a super wonder drug for me, it changed me. Some thug laid out on the floor crawling away in his white tank top and jeans I pointed my shotgun at him as he looked at me with fear. He was no older than twenty and with a sickening smile I pulled the trigger and blew the motherfuckers head off. I knew him. Child rapist and drug seller, he got what he deserved, now to deal with the other collection of pricks that continued to fire at me like confetti going off, bullets ricocheting everywhere.

  Two dead there was roughly twelve more of the gang left but only eleven were in my sights. Ten rounds left in my shotgun was near enough to deal with the rest of the gang and for such close range combat it was perfect for the job. With speed comparable to something like a vampire I sped around the back of the wrecked shop blasting everything I saw. Dead, dead, dead, dead. Four more dropped to the blood soaked wood floor.

  With nearly half their gang blown to bits within mere seconds the rest scampered behind torn apart cupboards, wardrobes, boxes and other objects leaving me slap bang in the middle of the torn apart room. The car had come screeching through the south wall obliterating it and the round table the gang were all sat at. Cocaine lay everywhere as it must have been on the table, as did money, it was splattered around more than the blood.

  “All you assholes are going to die here! I am the demon of Honduras and I’ve come for your blood. I’ve come to reap your souls!” I screamed out aloud before catching sight of two more gang members hidden behind a stack of crisp boxes, what a bunch of idiots.

  Shotgun pointed in that direction I let loose another round ripping the boxes apart and the two men behind them as more bullets whizzed by my head. Six down and five left with still one missing, Intel suggested there was twelve at the meeting and if anything my source of Intel was never wrong.

  Putting away my trusted shotgun into its back slot I had had enough. Sure enough it could end every life within the back of the shop but it would be too slow. Pulling out the other two companions I aimed in the direction of the other gang members and second by second I pulled the triggers, bullets piercing clean through the array of objects they were hiding behind and puncturing their fleshy meat bag bodies.

  More than a minute passed by until the back of the shop went quite, not another bullet to be shot. I had eliminated the gang of drug dealers and human traffickers. Quite proud with myself that I had rid the streets of Honduras of more scum I began to exit the wrecked shop from where I had crashed through. Trying my best to squeeze through a small gap in-between the Fiat Punto and the stone wall my clothing got caught on what could only be described as some scythe like object and that was when number twelve appeared, the worse out of the gang. How could I have even forgot that there was still one man remaining, it was like my mind had begun to wonder, a thick haze corrupting it.

  Adi he was called, he was one of the worst thugs to ever come to power within Honduras, and he was my main target. Causing the death of hundreds upon hundreds and selling more kids and drugs than anyone could count he was a true devil. Only in his early twenties Adi had everything, money, power, women, cars and drugs. Hard to track down he was going to be the asshole that ends my life but I was damned if I was to let that disease plague Honduras anymore.

  T-shirt caught on some damn scythe it wouldn’t free at all and then Adi spoke as he shot me three times through the side of my ribs, two bullets exiting through my chest, the third puncturing through my left lung.

  “The demon Azazel I guess! Nothing but a kid trying to play vigilant
e.”

  I screamed in pain as Adi spat on me but I wriggled free.

  Before I could even reach my guns he shot me again, this time in the right leg causing me to fall to the shop floor covered in all manner of sweet packets and crisps.

  Adi proceeded to mock me as I continued to crawl to the gaping hole I had punctured into the shop with my car. Surely the military police must have arrived by now I thought but I was wrong as I managed to crawl out onto the pavement, another bullet puncturing through my other leg.

  Dropping off the high curb I laid sprawled out in the road as Adi clambered out of the shop wearing his posh blue suit, although dirty thanks to the dust and debris within the store. Pointing his gun at several innocent bystanders he shot them in the head making the other onlookers panic, scream and flee.

  Laying in the middle of the road with life fading and my smile dropping as I looked a young mother and her seven year old child in the face I became disappointed in myself. I was trying to rid Honduras of people like Adi. With little to no strength left I reached for my left side Glock as Adi hovered over me, his pistol pointed at my head.

  “Good bye you little bitch!” Adi said coldly as he pulled the trigger yet I remained.

  His gun out of bullets I swiftly removed mine from its holder pointed it up at his head and smiled.

  “Fuck you prick!” I screamed before pulling the trigger and capping his head.

  They were the very last moments of my life because shortly after that I flat lined, the damn military police still nowhere in sight as dozens of bodies lay dead, useless corrupt idiots. Although dead I found myself stood up looking down at my lifeless bloody corpse, it was as if I was a ghost but there was no sign of Adi’s ghost or any other ghost for that matter. Stood still looking upon my actual body I was dressed in some kind of white clothing, white bottoms and a white t-shirt, no shoes. My hands looked incredibly pale and as a woman ran straight through my corporal body there was no denying that I was indeed dead.

  Never before had I believed in the otherworld. Believing that there was nothing beyond death it was quite a shock, but what was I meant to do now? Wonder the earth in a ghostly form for the rest of forever. Sadly not as I could not even take a step and this wasn’t because I couldn’t move in my new soul like body.

  Giant gaudy metal chains came firing out of the ground around me covered in spikes, dried blood and other grisly tokens like skulls and eyeballs. Wrapping around me like a cloak the spikes buried in deep causing immeasurable pain. I screamed like a baby as the ground beneath me swallowed me whole, the chains dragging me down within.

  Chapter two: Entrance into the unknown

  Dragged deeper into the earth as my soul-like body bounced around like an elastic ball, the endless untold amount of spikes like barbwire wrapped around this new body of mine dying the once white clothes red with blood. Yet no matter how much I bled I didn’t die. Was this the afterlife or was this Hell I was going to I thought to myself as the barbed chains choked me, ever more ripping the white clothes from my body and leaving me a blooded naked ghostly corpse.

  It seemed like an eternity being dragged through untold amounts of rock until finally the chains left my bloody beaten up body and slithered away, yet my body continued to fall through dense rock. The chains didn’t just strip me of clothing; they had stripped me bear to the bones. Not even muscle lay upon this skeleton body of mine. Was this punishment for a life full of sin, even though I thought I was doing the right thing? Meh. Who gives a fuck? I sure don’t.

  Nothing but a bag of spirit bones I admired my new grisly form thinking to myself it would be great on Halloween. Never had I known what fear was, sure I knew what pain was but never had I been afraid, not even now as I was plummeting into the unknown with my body looking like Jack skeleton.

  Hours must have passed by yet I was still phasing between rock, bored out of my mind it was doing me no good but then I gleamed something from the corner of my eye. A spark of fire or flames, maybe it really was Hell I was going to, yet the idea of Hell sounded fun to me, well as long as I wasn’t continually tortured at the least.

  The flames that I had gleamed out of the corner of my eye were fast coming into full blown view as I continued to look down, the rock I was slipping through giving way until there was no more rock and my body suddenly became heavy, like I was alive. Still I was nothing but a bag of bones but I could breathe and move.

  Taking in a huge gulp of air as if I had lungs it was the worst decision to take as it was like inhaling fire. Throat burning I swear I could feel my lungs on fire and my eyeballs melting, however I still had no organs, no skin, no nothing. Well that was until I passed this thin veil of dark air.

  From where I was falling there was another endless drop beneath me, taking me to god only knew where, it was filled with a fiery red atmosphere except every now and again I went crashing through some black hovering mist and every time I passed through this strange smoke like mist part of my body returned. At first it was organs that returned to me as I passed through the first mist like barrier, lungs, heart, intestines, all returned to me. Each time I did pass through it hurt like nothing I had experienced before. Not a fan of pain it brought tears to my new electric blue eyes, the tears quickly evaporating as they formed.

  I must have fallen through twenty two layers of thick black mist until every part of my body had returned to me, some of it slightly odd and nothing of what it once was back in the world of the living. Completely naked from head to toe my muscle density had increased significantly, making me look like some kind of ripped, yet skinny gladiator, my jet black hair had turned bright fiery red like a clowns and no matter how much I tried to keep it down it spiked up. All I could think to myself now was that I sure as hell wasn’t getting a woman any time soon, not that I wanted a nagging bitch anyway. Never really was interested in anything other than myself and my precious guns.

  Try as I might to get the devilish hair into a style I wanted I saw what waited beneath me as I soared towards it at well over a hundred miles per hour. A vast desert of all kinds of colours, red and yellow more prominent but there was even green and blue sand. No matter how far I looked into every direction there was absolutely nothing but sand. Like one huge kitty litter box I said to myself making me chuckle. Maybe it was the devils crap box, either way I was on a one way collision with it and as I came closer it suddenly dawned on me. Was I even going to fucking survive this fall?

  Chapter three: Friend or foe

  Screaming at the very top of my new set of lungs that the dark mists had seen fit to grant me I found myself continually looking at my demise as I was suddenly meters away from the sandy surface. Just when all hope looked terrible bleak some bastard saw fit to jolt my ass quite literally.

  I couldn’t have been more than ten meters above a red sandy dune when a gigantic bolt of lightning shot down from the heavens cooking me alive, the pain was tremendous, worse than the horrible spirit chains. Spirit chains were what I had named those awful torturing chains that had dragged me to this place.

  Jolt after jolt I fried yet they didn’t stop, it was like the very sky above me was a whole stream of flowing lightning, thunder crackling ever so loud it practically melted my ear drums. Scarce counting three awful jolts of seriously high voltage lightning I passed out suspended in mid-air. No idea what was happening to me it would take a miracle to survive.

  It must have been several thousand miles I had dropped below the very surface I use to dwell on, so if the impact of the fall didn’t kill my ghostly ass then surely Zeus’s farts would? But they didn’t.

  Barely opening my eyes I glanced around finding myself sprawled out on the red sandy dune, smouldering smoke all around me. Body unscathed by the events that had happened I sprang to my feet shouting wildly into the air.

  “Fuck you Zeus! Wait a minute… This floor is scorching hot!”

  Springing about like a bunny gone mad I couldn’t even comprehend the amount of heat radiating from the surf
ace of the sand. It seared my flesh with every little touch as I danced like a puppet on a string, the smell of something similar to bacon wafting up my nose. My own body burning was starting to make me hungry. Then again I had no idea at how long I had been in freefall or how long I had been passed out.

  So top of my agenda was to first get something to eat and drink, anything at all would do as my tongue felt like it had formed blisters. Next would be to find out where I was. Third I guess would be to find some suitable clothing as a coat of blood on top of my naked body wasn’t going to do even though it was incredibly hot wherever I was.

  Azazel danced around the baking hot desert trying as he may to adjust to the new world he had been crudely entered into. It seemed that the desert alone was torturing him for his past life’s sins. Either way he continued onward, not knowing which way was north as all he could see when he looked up was a sky filled with raging fire. Deep in the distance of the vast sprawling desert there were many fiery vortexes playfully dancing around the dunes, tearing apart anything they came in contact with.

  Not another soul in sight, Azazel was truly alone, not that he minded seeing as he spent an entirety alone. Aimlessly wondering for hours it wasn’t long before Azazel was on his hands and knees. Starved and so badly dehydrated the scorching sand of the now yellow desert melted away at his flesh.

  “Fuck. I can’t… Go on.” Azazel said in a gasping tone.

  “Then don’t. Die a dogs death Azazel.”

  A male voice from the nearby distance spoke out, even speaking Azazel’s name.