C҉R҉O҉W҉ | ᴍᴄᴜ x ᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

XVI - 𝐋𝐚 𝐕𝐢𝐞 𝐄𝐧 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞

GIOVANNI SAT BEHIND the new mahogany desk, his fingers drumming rhythmically on its polished surface. The room's opulence filled of rich leather chairs, paintings, and dark wood paneling.

Azrael, clad in his tactical gear, his face hidden behind thecskull mask, stood on the opposite side of the desk. Giovanni, usually the one to command a room, felt an unsettling shift.

"I don't care if I come out with an incentive." Azrael's voice, cold and devoid of emotion, broke the silence, "Nor do I crave power in the way you understand it."

Giovanni leaned back, trying to maintain his composure despite the unease creeping up his spine.

"Then w-what is it you want? You demanded control, yet you claim it's not for power."

Azrael took a step closer, his gaze piercing through the mask.

"Power is a necessity, not a goal." He said. Then he pauses, turning to his back as he looks over his shoulder, "Do you know the tale of Prometheus?"

Giovanni raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself, "Only the name."

Azrael slowly nods, clasping his hands behind his back as he slowly walked around the room.

"Prometheus defied Zeus, the king of the gods, by stealing fire and giving it to humanity. For his transgression, Zeus condemned Prometheus to an eternal punishment. He was chained to a rock, and every day an eagle would come and eat his liver, only for it to regenerate overnight. But even then, the suffering was endless, his torment renewed each day." Azrael's eyes gleamed behind the mask, "The punishment was not just the physical torment. It was about the hopelessness. The unending cycle of suffering. Prometheus was made to endure this agony indefinitely, knowing that each day would bring the same torment."

He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in, then resumed.

"For the Crow, as much as it pleases both you and I, I won't kill him outright. . . but by breaking him, piece by piece." He stops taking his steps, turning back to Giovanni, "I will first take every ounce of hope he has, and when he is at his lowest, I will ensure his suffering continues."

His jaw hinges, eyes narrow, "Only when he is a shell of a man, begging for the end, will I consider letting him die."

The sheer coldness in his voice sent a shiver down Giovanni's spine. He had dealt with many dangerous men in his life, but there was something uniquely terrifying about Azrael's calculated malice.

"Why?" Giovanni asked, trying to understand the depths of Azrael's hatred, "Why go to such lengths?"

Azrael's lips quivered beneath the mask as everything came back to him.

"He betrayed me. . . left me to suffer." He clenches his eye shut, taking a deep breath, "Now, I will make him understand true despair. Every friend, every ally, every ounce of hope he has left—I will strip it away. . . burn everything he stands for. . . piece by piece."

••••••••

FELICIA GROGILY WOKE UP, her body craving the warmth that she expected to find next to her. She reached out instinctively, only to feel the cold, empty space. Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion as she opened her eyes, finding the bed devoid of Y/N's presence.

She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and noticed an oversized shirt and shorts neatly folded on the bed. Her heart softened at the gesture, but her curiosity and concern quickly took over.