From ash and dust

Daniel fell to the ground, his body screaming in pain as the overexertion he had pushed himself to finally caught up with him. He tried to breath, to recompose himself and stay awake in case anyone saw the tower of black smoke and decided to come check it out. He hoped that those who came to his aid were their men at the very least, at least then he would have to be spared from playing the victim in his current state.

It was supposed to be the first mission he went in as a hunter, he was supposed to be nothing more than a lookout for when things went south or the hunters started shifting their goals. Not once were his hands to be dirtied, and yet there he was, a lone survivor to a job gone whose hands were soaked in blood.

The sensation of heat crawling over his back made him turn to see the growing inferno as it violently ravaged the house, specks of ash and dust falling from the sky like the rare snowfall during the winter. He blanched at the sight of the senseless destruction he had caused, terrified more at the fact that he was the cause of it than anything else.

He felt like throwing up, hurling nothing more than spit as he tried to make himself feel sick, yet he couldn’t. Try as he might, no feelings of regret, guilt, or even disgust came to him. All he genuinely felt in those moments in which he contemplated the violent flames reaching for the sky was euphoria, and that pleasure worried him.

Even though he had worked for so long as a shoulder in dining room, seen as much blood as any other member of their organization and familiarized himself with how easily a life could be taken, he was not a killer. The people he saw die in his line of work were not people he would ever feel sorry for, feel pity for, but that didn’t mean he would ever kill them should he ever get the chance. Yet how was it that he felt a jolt of excitement each time he was reminded of what had happened inside of that house?

His mind felt fragmented, like if he was just an observer in his own body, as if something entirely different and monstrous took over him in that instance of life and death. When that fog lifted from his mind and control seemed to be given back to him to some extent he saw only a bloodbath, with anyone not immediately death screaming in agony as they bleed out on the floor. It was the sound of a whimper that drew his attention back to the real world, and was focused on the man that was hiding under his expressive looking desk. 

A feeling of wrath began welling in him. With whatever strength that still remained in him he gave chase, only to stop a after a few feet when the man slithered away at what could have possibly been a safe room, the loud clicks echoing across the torn room confirming his suspicions. 

Still dazed and feeling the lingering buzz under his skin aching for violence, he acted out on impulse. Pushing the bookshelves nearby and dropping them against the door, as well as any thing that was heavy enough for the door not to budge or give in even when adrenaline fuels his veins as he desperately tries to survive. He knew the entire house was wired with cameras, so he had made it clear what he planned in doing. 

He could hear from down the hallway how the target tried to move the furniture from the door with, crashing over and over again in hopes that it’d give in as Daniel finished dozing the floor with alcohol. 

It was that moment specifically he wanted to feel sick about, wanted to condemn as something unbecoming of who he was. All his life he had tried to ignore the voices that demanded for blood ever since the first time he’d done it, yet he only seemed to feed it over the years until it became excessively vicious. 

That was how it all lead back to him staring in horror as the flames quickly consumed everything, closing every possible escape route. Daniel tried as best he could to ignore the blood curling screams that came from inside, opting to comfort himself with them being nothing more than creations from his already crumbling sanity. As the screams grew louder, more agonizing and inhuman, he immediately covered his ears, uncaring in how they were caked in blood of faceless grunts standing between him and what had to be done. 

As each breath slowed down, his initial panic and disgust for himself slowly fading away, and soon he could hear several footsteps rushing towards him. Several questions were shot at him about what happened, but he was so tired and barely even there that most he could do was register them as he stared into nothingness. It was a firm hand which finally stirred him from his trance, pulling up both physically and mentally. Only after he was in the safety of the compound and finally thinking straight that he discovered that it was a hunter he was friendly with that stayed with him until he finally passed out from exhaustion. However, when he was still precariously hanging onto consciousness by a thread he focused on his body. 

Daniel stared with scrutiny at his body caked in ash and blacked soot, almost as if it had insulted him. It coated him fittingly, no longer stinging his exposed skin, and he could have easily described it as comforting, quite like a light cotton sweater. Something about ash covered body seemed to captive him, like there was a beauty behind what he was seeing. A symbol. Then an idea popped into his hazy and delirious mind, one which seemed appropriate despite the dramatic connotations of it. 

The sight of the ashes all over his skin left liberating in that moment, like an omen of things to come. Great things. Something inside of him had stirred awake at the scent of blood, at the feeling of warmth given with fresh wounds violently produced on another’s body, at the sight of all life leaving them. It hurt to know that many colleagues had died because of one rotten man, and it was pain and rage welled up inside him that sought immediate retribution. Yet it was the fear that he took greater delight in, how the man’s stared at him like if what stood before him was nothing short of a monster made him feel ecstatic.

He wondered what he would find once the ashes and dust had been scrubbed off, what changes may arise from whatever thing had been brought out. Maybe Daniel was being overly dramatic, and anyone in their right mind would think so too, but not him. It felt right, like a literal representation of the new him clawing at the walls he never knew he’d place to kept it buried.

Cold rationality and savage brutality mixed together within him, birthed out of the ashes and dust of the first truly meaningful kill. And already his body buzzed with excitement at the thought of more hunts to come. Perhaps a name would be fitting for it, but for now coming to terms with this terrible beast was Daniel's main priority.

Good things come to those who wait after all, and it seemed this monster has waited long enough.