Time stood still for no one. Even now humans age every second of every day, and yet most of them walk around with smiles on their faces. Death was the only true catalyst to bring to their minds the fragility of life. Death was the true epitome of time’s dark side, and yet there were those who relished the dark, those who existed beyond the wretched grasp of time. In the end, humans all shook hands with the grim reaper, but in his eyes the grim reaper feared him. The grim reaper had no authority over his end, for he had chosen to be the captain of his own ship, the creator of his own destiny. How long would it take for the bonds to break and release the dark cold hand of chaos?
Shi’a stood in front of the full length mirror. His slender form glistened beneath the rays of the overhead lights. His tanned blemish free skin showed years of hard work and dedication. His arms, though lean, held strength from constant training. His chest, his abs, even his thighs and legs held stories of constant bone breaking training and yet his skin was soft and velvet to the touch. His beautiful icy blue eyes held stories that would chill the spine of any who dared to listen. Long black and royal purple hair cascaded down his back and rested just above his butt. He was satisfied with his look, though it meant little to him. Pleasing to others, but his own looks were something that didn’t phase him as much as it did others. Every now and then he would be mistaken for a woman and eventually decided to let people think whatever it is they would think. He took on the role of either gender, presenting a strong version of each to the eyes of any who gazed upon his dangerous beauty.
“Master, Lord Ashura wishes to speak with you.”
The shaky voice of the chambermaid filtered into the room from the doorway. Shi’loh turned to place his cold gaze on her and smiled.
“Thank you Laylah. You are dismissed.”
Shi’a pulled the dark purple under robe over his nude form and followed it by a black elegant dragon embossed thin garment that seemed to flutter when no wind was present. It gave an ethereal feel. In fact, Shi’a entire presence was ethereal to those who managed to survive encounters with him. He moved with such elegance and poise, almost as if he floated. Shi’a grabbed his keys and moved towards the meeting room of the large mansion. He was visiting his father in hopes of spending a little family time. He’d left New York four years ago to help his father establish businesses in other parts of the country, and his success was astronomical.
Standing in front of the great wooden doors, Shi’a reached out to push only for one of the many hired hands to hurriedly open it for him.
“Lord Ashura, you wish to speak with me?,” Shi’a asked, as he moved to stand before the intimidating man. His brows nor hair showed any sign of age, but he was well in his forties. The man’s body was forged from the work he’d done to become the Kingpin of New York. His cane was a gift from Shi’a, something that would always come in handy should he need it. Many rings adorned the fingers on each massive hand. Lord Ashura turned to face Shi’a and smirked.
“How are you settling in? It’s been four years since you’ve stayed here.”
“I am adjusting. The time differences take some getting used to.”
One of Lord Ashura’s men came in and moved swiftly to his side. There was an exchange of whispers before Lord Ashura’s face contorted to show distaste. Whatever the man had said he didn’t like. Shi’a watched as the man stepped back before speaking.
“What’s going on?”
“Someone likes to play vigilante, it seems.”
Shi’a raised an eyebrow. Any man was a fool to step foot on the wrong side of Lord Ashura.
“How so?” Shi’a asked.
“Inventory wasted. There was, how can I put it? Complications at one of my locations. A little nuisance who likes to use golden rounds from a particular gun. When I get my hands on him…”
“Allow me to go send a message to them as well as any who dare challenge your authority.”
A look of concern washed over Lord Ashura’s face. Though he was a crime boss, he was also a father to Shi’a and didn’t like sending his son on missions without necessary intel. He also was aware of what Shi’a meant by ‘sending a message’ and the last event played over in his head. The amount of money he’d spent to cover it up could have built several hundred homes, but yet he knew if he sent Shi’a, the job would get done, but even he held a slight fear of his own son when it came to his deadly arts.
“Very well, but you are to report to me everything you find, and you are to not engage with the law enforcement. The last thing we need is a news report about dead cops. The media would be all over it.”
“Don’t you worry. I will be in and out like a shadow, but I do have one question before I leave. Who is this vigilante you speak of?”
“Ahh, the one known as ArcLight. My intel has collected a bit of information on him. I can get you the file if you want.”
“Just the gist will do. I like surprises.”
“He carries around this Lee Enfield rifle and has these special bullets that make short work of my men.”
Before Lord Ashura could say another word, Shi’a was gone. A puff of black and purple smoke was all that remained in the space that Shi’a once occupied.
Red and blue lights surrounded the building that was once the Kingpin’s factory. Illegal substances sold to the highest bidder are now useless in the hands of the police. There were numerous of them, happy that they’d made such a large discovery, but in truth it wasn’t the only factory in New York. There were numerous, each with its connected purpose. As the police slowly began to round up the Tracksuits that complained about not being able to see clearly, or out of one eye.
“Fascinating,” Shi’a said right into the ear of one of the police officers who was standing by observing.
The startled man quickly drew his weapon and Shi’a tilted his head at the man.
“How much did you collect?”
By now the other police officers were turning to see Shi’a who repeated his question in case the officer was hard of hearing.
“Who are you? Why are you here?” the man demanded.
“I am here for retribution.”
The shift was swift, and an ominous cold filled the area. The man fired a shot that pierced the figure in front of him, but struck the wall behind it. Shi’a form had shifted to that of a Shadow Wraith. The officer’s eyes widened at what he was seeing and before he could fire off another shot, his scream filled the air. Gunshots rang out, but soon quieted as one by one each fell to the touch of the dark entity. The hooded figure turned to gaze upon the Tracksuits, hovering over to them.
“You had ONE job. Tell me, how were you bested by one mere mortal?”
Shi’a’s voice filled the ears of the frightened semi blinded men. It was no mistake that the sound of his voice drove many insane. It was akin to several hundred souls speaking at once.
“There was more than one sir, there was this thing that wasn’t affected by our bullets.”
Shi’a’s interest was poked.
“It came in and we shot at it, but it wouldn’t go down. The bullets kept going right through it. Then it released this searing light that blinded most of us. It’s nothing like I’ve ever seen. There was this guy too with this rifle. He shot us.”
“Enough. I have all I need,” Shi’a said.
He turned to leave after breaking the restraints that held the Tracksuits. “I will let you live this time, but one more screw up and I will feast on your souls. Go back to the Kingpin and tell him why you failed.”
Without a sound Shi’a was gone. The police officers would begin to wake a few minutes later. He was sure they would be a report made on what happened, but what was a return without a little fun?