Wrath. The human world is so full of it. So many raging souls.
Their species is ruled by anger and hell, I should know. I was one of them once.
Well, I wasn't strictly a human as they are today. I lived to see the dawn of civilisation, ten thousand or so years ago. I traded it away for this new life. Immortality and all the souls I could ever ask for. A demon, the most ruthless being in the underworld noticed me. My own soul, as he put it, was far beyond my time. Why waste it on a pitifully short life of basic civilisation when I could live forever and know life as my human mind could never have comprehended?
Right now, I'm standing on a street corner in New York city, near a cathedral. I have my hood up, my face shielded by the shadow it creates. Not that I need to. I look like an average guy straight out of modern day America. I have the ability to change my appearance at will, from a skinny little nerdy kid to a fat, aged man. I can hold a female glamour if I want, but I prefer not to. It doesn't suit me. I was born a man, I died a man and I've remained a man for the last ten thousand years. Why change now?
The chain around my neck looks like any ordinary chain that a human guy would wear. But it's not. It's twitching, waiting, searching for the next soul for me to steal. War zones are my usual hunting ground. I can show them how there is no glory in dying for their country. It makes them angry when you say that, you see. They don't like being told they died for nothing.
But today, I'm looking for one soul in particular.
What, you thought I left the human life behind without having left myself a few descendants? Get real. Their blood is so ridiculously diluted, these days, but occasionally, my genes will show through.
I think they call it psychosis these days. I watched many a time, amused as a descendant of mine was subjected to all sorts of mental therapy. It was more fun before the humans kinda figured out other ways of stopping people being nuts. Electro therapy and lobotomies and the like. It made them angry, y'see. And once they were angry enough, I'd take their soul.
Anyways, this soul... he's stronger than the other descendants. In fact, you'd probably see me as doing the world a favour; I mean the guy's a murderer. But that's not my reason for taking him. My reason is because it'll make me stronger.
Ten thousand years takes its toll on you after a while.
He walks past me and the silver chain around my neck is instantly alert as I breathe him in. It unfastens itself and slides down into my hand, ready to extend and wrap around his soul, ensnaring him and siphoning his energy into me.
I wait a second and then set off after him, my hand twitching towards the knife in its sheath on my arm. The knife is purely for intimidation. I prefer to use my hands and my chain.
He doesn't seem to notice me following him. I tut to myself slightly. Humans are so shut off from the world around them. I'm perfectly aware of everything around me from five blocks away. No detail goes unmissed. From every cell of a mould growing in the bin three streets back to the movement of every muscle in his body as he breaks into a run, late for something. I look into his head. He has a boss. He kills for money. Makes more sense. Sounds like something I would do. Definitely related to me.
His boss ain't gonna be happy when he finds such a fine hit man in the alley, lifeless. And soulless.
I smile and shout at him to stop. He freezes and turns. I pull my hood down and grin at him, walking towards him. I breathe him in again as I near him. He smells of anger and of fear. My fist grabs at the front of his shirt as I pull him in. The chain snakes down from my hand, piercing into him, looking for his soul.
"Who are you?" he stutters, put off by my confidence. I consider trying to work out how many "greats" would go in front of the word "father" but I can't be bothered.
"Oh, you know who I am. I'm in your blood," I whisper, my smile not fading. He shudders slightly as the chain snares his soul, wrapping around him, connecting us. "I'm Jet," I tell him. "I, the third agent of Lucifer, bind you in these chains." I murmur, feeling the chains tighten on him, "You will be trapped not only by these chains, but your own wrath. This," I lift my free hand, "will be your final sight. Wrath is your sin and your curse. For all eternity, your soul will be ours" specifically mine, "in the fires of hell." He shivers again as I put my hand around his throat, squeezing until his soul passes over into my body. I drop his body between a couple of dumpsters and walk away again, breaking into a run as I tear through from their world to ours again.
His soul will only keep me going for another week or so. I think it's time to leave some more descendants of mine on earth... Later. I need to sleep.