Azazel

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
vigilante.”

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.