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Description
Red was terrified. Damn we're down to three now. It's never dropped that low before. No life means no death.  Then what would I do? Dead people are all I have. Red reviewed the rules of the job in his head.
1. All souls must be reaped. No exceptions.
2. Revealing yourself to mortals is a last resort. Only one living mortal my see you at a time.
3. The rules are never divulged to the living.
4. Interfering is a last resort. Only when the reality count drops below 500 is ANY action to be taken.
5. You can only leave purgatory in dire situations.
6. The rules are absolute any deviation from the rules will result in immediate punishment.
I HATE punishment. 'Die a thousand deaths.' That simple sentence pops into my head, next thing I know, I'm in someone else's body dying of a heart attack. Then I'm free falling off a sky scraper. Drinking  pesticides,  burning in a house fire, drowning in a toilet. That was the last time I broke the rules. The only time I broke the rules. I show myself to one extra mortal, just one, and I die a thousand mortal deaths. Ugh no wonder some of them hate me when we meet...
...It's all his fault. If he wasn't so hellbent on controlling the whole damn planet, we wouldn't be in this mess. If he wasn't the only way forward I would have killed him myself. I just hope I made the right choice by choosing Troy.
* * * * *
Damn it, what have I put this kid up against? Carlson stood in front of a frustrated, and damn near murderous child. He has so much hate. Should I trust him to do the right thing? Would he fix our problem, or only compound it? His eyes hold what? Fear? Anger? Justice? No I don't see it. His eyes burn with something darker. He seeks vengeance... But perhaps justice isn't enough anymore.  We are at our final stand. Robert was our last hope. Now the future falls on the shoulders of his son. For the sake of all our lives, I hope he can handle what lies ahead.
His willful eyes boar into me. "Well?" So naive.
"To tell you who, you need to know why. And that story takes us to a time you wouldn't remember. Well before you were born..."
* * * * *
Stacy Kirkland sat in her office bored to death. Brunet hair wrapped itself over the right half of her vision. The air in her lungs was thick as she danced between the realms of sleep and consciousness. Only to be interrupted by a small P.A system on her desk.
"Stacy your 2 o'clock is here."
"Hmm? Oh um, send him up please. Thanks Vanessa." Who knew being this wealthy was going to be so boring? Hell of a job you had Dad. Sit in a chair and make billions a year. Other profitable corporations begging to be bought out by us. Our company sits on 62% of the worlds wealth. Set for life is an understatement. This next client should bring another 4.2% to that figure. Not that I really care. Money is the least of my concerns at this point. The company practically runs itself. I don't even know why they need me. Dad passed so recently that everyone's afraid to approach me. I've only been the boss for a month and Vanessa is the only one who isn't too scared to speak to me.
The ping of an elevator drew Stacy back to her office out of thought. The meter over the elevator read 46 and the double doors pulled apart. Stepping through the threshold was a wall of a man. The man himself momentarily took the place of the doors cutting off the elevator from sight. A serious military-bald hair cut rode atop a equally serious head. A highly angular suit emphasized his size. This wasn't the man she was expecting.
"I'm sorry I was expecting someone else. But if you would like to discuss a business venture you could make an appointment downstairs with Vanessa."
A thick voice met her questions apolitically.  "I'm sorry ma'am I did not mean to inconvenience you. My name is Dent Striger. Und there was a matter of business I wanted to discuss with you."
"Oh really Mr. Striger. What might that be?"
"Actually ma'am," he pulled out his SIG SAUER P220 pistol, "this is a hostile takeover."
* * * * *
Dent reclined in his new chair, even if it was a little small. Everything was nice and orderly. But the walls still needs to be redecorated. These stains are unsightly...
* * * * *
"Your disobedience is very testing Jake."
"But Mr. Striger did she really need to die?"
"That is EXACTLY the kind of thinking that I'm talking about. Those people whom I target stand between us and the power we need."
"I... but... it's... yes sir."
"Very good. Oh, and Carlson, don't doubt me again." With that Striger waved of his subordinate and didn't give the conversation a second thought.
That bastard, thought Carlson. I will stop him. But, how...? Everyone who defies him disappears. Maybe I stand a chance, if only I could vanish from beneath his nose...
* * * * *
Carlson pulled himself back to the present. "So I created the Vanished. The last resistance against Striger's tyranny. Since my leaving the organization things have gone from bad to worse.  He's now leading a group of thugs that call themselves The Shadow of Dawn. An elite group of fighters each gifted with tremendous power. Those are the people who killed your family Troy."
"Why tell me all of this now?"
"Because Troy, to get your revenge, you're going to have to become one of them."

Description
Red was terrified. Damn we're down to three now. It's never dropped that low before. No life means no death.  Then what would I do? Dead people are all I have. Red reviewed the rules of the job in his head.
1. All souls must be reaped. No exceptions.
2. Revealing yourself to mortals is a last resort. Only one living mortal my see you at a time.
3. The rules are never divulged to the living.
4. Interfering is a last resort. Only when the reality count drops below 500 is ANY action to be taken.
5. You can only leave purgatory in dire situations.
6. The rules are absolute any deviation from the rules will result in immediate punishment.
I HATE punishment. 'Die a thousand deaths.' That simple sentence pops into my head, next thing I know, I'm in someone else's body dying of a heart attack. Then I'm free falling off a sky scraper. Drinking  pesticides,  burning in a house fire, drowning in a toilet. That was the last time I broke the rules. The only time I broke the rules. I show myself to one extra mortal, just one, and I die a thousand mortal deaths. Ugh no wonder some of them hate me when we meet...
...It's all his fault. If he wasn't so hellbent on controlling the whole damn planet, we wouldn't be in this mess. If he wasn't the only way forward I would have killed him myself. I just hope I made the right choice by choosing Troy.
* * * * *
Damn it, what have I put this kid up against? Carlson stood in front of a frustrated, and damn near murderous child. He has so much hate. Should I trust him to do the right thing? Would he fix our problem, or only compound it? His eyes hold what? Fear? Anger? Justice? No I don't see it. His eyes burn with something darker. He seeks vengeance... But perhaps justice isn't enough anymore.  We are at our final stand. Robert was our last hope. Now the future falls on the shoulders of his son. For the sake of all our lives, I hope he can handle what lies ahead.
His willful eyes boar into me. "Well?" So naive.
"To tell you who, you need to know why. And that story takes us to a time you wouldn't remember. Well before you were born..."
* * * * *
Stacy Kirkland sat in her office bored to death. Brunet hair wrapped itself over the right half of her vision. The air in her lungs was thick as she danced between the realms of sleep and consciousness. Only to be interrupted by a small P.A system on her desk.
"Stacy your 2 o'clock is here."
"Hmm? Oh um, send him up please. Thanks Vanessa." Who knew being this wealthy was going to be so boring? Hell of a job you had Dad. Sit in a chair and make billions a year. Other profitable corporations begging to be bought out by us. Our company sits on 62% of the worlds wealth. Set for life is an understatement. This next client should bring another 4.2% to that figure. Not that I really care. Money is the least of my concerns at this point. The company practically runs itself. I don't even know why they need me. Dad passed so recently that everyone's afraid to approach me. I've only been the boss for a month and Vanessa is the only one who isn't too scared to speak to me.
The ping of an elevator drew Stacy back to her office out of thought. The meter over the elevator read 46 and the double doors pulled apart. Stepping through the threshold was a wall of a man. The man himself momentarily took the place of the doors cutting off the elevator from sight. A serious military-bald hair cut rode atop a equally serious head. A highly angular suit emphasized his size. This wasn't the man she was expecting.
"I'm sorry I was expecting someone else. But if you would like to discuss a business venture you could make an appointment downstairs with Vanessa."
A thick voice met her questions apolitically.  "I'm sorry ma'am I did not mean to inconvenience you. My name is Dent Striger. Und there was a matter of business I wanted to discuss with you."
"Oh really Mr. Striger. What might that be?"
"Actually ma'am," he pulled out his SIG SAUER P220 pistol, "this is a hostile takeover."
* * * * *
Dent reclined in his new chair, even if it was a little small. Everything was nice and orderly. But the walls still needs to be redecorated. These stains are unsightly...
* * * * *
"Your disobedience is very testing Jake."
"But Mr. Striger did she really need to die?"
"That is EXACTLY the kind of thinking that I'm talking about. Those people whom I target stand between us and the power we need."
"I... but... it's... yes sir."
"Very good. Oh, and Carlson, don't doubt me again." With that Striger waved of his subordinate and didn't give the conversation a second thought.
That bastard, thought Carlson. I will stop him. But, how...? Everyone who defies him disappears. Maybe I stand a chance, if only I could vanish from beneath his nose...
* * * * *
Carlson pulled himself back to the present. "So I created the Vanished. The last resistance against Striger's tyranny. Since my leaving the organization things have gone from bad to worse.  He's now leading a group of thugs that call themselves The Shadow of Dawn. An elite group of fighters each gifted with tremendous power. Those are the people who killed your family Troy."
"Why tell me all of this now?"
"Because Troy, to get your revenge, you're going to have to become one of them."